Silly Love Songs
by TheNextFolchart
Summary: A collection of drabbles with all the pairings you secretly and not-so-secretly love. Written primarily for the Shipping Shuffle Competition on HPFC. [Word Count: 26,321]
1. Even If It Breaks Your Heart

**Even If It Breaks Your Heart**

**Tonks/Lupin**

_[Interesting Words Challenge__: _

_1. __Mágoa - a heartbreaking feeling that leaves long-lasting traces, visible in gestures and facial expressions_

_2. L'appel du vide - the unexplainable desire to jump when on the edge of a cliff]_

_[Legendary Gods and Goddesses Competition: Hachiman - Write about someone trying to protect someone else.]_

* * *

_The first time she says it is after she finds out he's a werewolf. _

"Remus," she said, rolling her eyes. "Do you really think people care?"

"I know they do," he said, not meeting her eye. "I'm dangerous."

"Everyone knows you," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. He looked surprised at the touch. "We know you aren't dangerous. We _love _you."

He smiled wanly.

"And if it's such a big deal," she added, "I'll just be a werewolf with you." She let her nose grow into a long snout.

He laughed. "Thank you," he said, and he didn't seem to notice her heart deflated a little, because she'd been hoping for a different response.

_Keep on dreaming even if it breaks your heart._

* * *

_The second time she says it is in Grimmauld Place, where it slips out without permission._

She stumbled over the ugly umbrella stand and was about to hit the ground just as a pair of hands caught her around the waist. "Careful," he whispered at her ear. "Don't want to wake the portrait."

"Right," she breathed. Her heart was pounding. She hoped he couldn't tell.

(She hoped he could, and she hoped he knew exactly why it was beating so loudly.)

"Thanks," she added, and then, out of habit, because it was usually her mother picking her up: "I love you."

She felt her face turn bright red (which she concealed with a quick change of her complexion). He looked mildly amused. "Doesn't everyone?" he joked, patting her shoulder, and he let her go and went downstairs to the meeting.

Her shoulder tingled for hours.

_Some dreams keep on getting better._

* * *

_The third time it is said intentionally, and it comes out so quickly that he doesn't even hear._

"Are you on duty tonight?" she asked.

"No," he said. "Are you? Do you need someone to cover for you?"

She shook her head. "Just . . . some company."

He looked down at her. "Dora, you look sick. Maybe you need a night off."

"I feel fine." It wasn't true. She felt pallid and weary and _gray_, and she knew she looked it, too, knew her hair was mousy and her skin was stretched too tightly over her bones. And she couldn't change it, no matter how hard she tried.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "D'you - d'you think we could go for drinks sometime? After a shift, maybe?"

He looked surprised to hear her ask. "Sure. I'll see if Moody wants to come along."

"No." Her heart was speeding up again. "Just you and me."

"Why?"

"Because - "

(Here she was, poised over edge of a cliff, and she knew she couldn't undo it, but she wanted _so badly to jump.) _

" - because Iloveyou."

"Sorry?"

"I'm in love with you."

He stood so still that for a moment, Tonks wondered if he'd heard. Then he shook his head. "No," he said. "You aren't." And he turned around and walked back the way they'd come.

_Oh, don't let it break your heart._

* * *

_The next time - weeks later - he's the one who says it._

"Dora?" he asked. "Can I talk to you?"

"What." She wouldn't look at him.

"You told me something personal about yourself a few weeks ago, and I just wanted to return the favor."

"Go ahead." She wished she didn't feel so _dead_.

He took a deep breath. "If I'm being perfectly honest, I'm in love with you, too."

A chill ran through her. "You are?"

"Yes."

Tonks swallowed. "Well. That's great, then. That's - "

"But," he continued, and he looked genuinely sorry. "We can't - I don't want to be with you."

"Why not?"

"I'm not right for you. Look at me. Look at what I _am._"

"If this is because you're a werewolf - "

"It is. You don't deserve someone like me."

Somehow she ached more now than she had earlier. "But . . . But you're the one I want."

"It's too complicated." He dug his hands into his pockets. "Maybe if things were less complicated . . ."

"If you weren't complicated, you wouldn't be _you_," she shot back.

"I'm _sorry_, Dora. I wish we could. In a perfect world, we would. In a _heartbeat_."

He faltered on the word heart.

_Gotta keep believing if you want to know for sure._

* * *

_The next time, it's finally requited._

"You see!" Tonks pointed at Bill's sleeping figure in the hospital bed. "She still wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten! She doesn't care!"

"It's different," he whispered. "Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely - "

"But I don't care either, I don't care!" She seized the front of his robes. "I've told you a million times!"

"_Dora,_" he hissed. "I've told _you_ a million times. I'm too old for you. I'm too poor for you. I'm too dangerous."

"I've said all along you're taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus," interjected Mrs. Weasley.

"I am not being ridiculous. Tonks deserves somebody young and whole."

"But she wants_ you_," said Mr. Weasley. "And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so."

He gestured sadly at his son, lying between them.

"May I talk to you in the hallway?" Remus said to Tonks, dragging her out by the sleeve before he even got an answer. "_Dora. _This is not the time, not the place."

"I'm so _tired _of waiting for the time and place!" she shouted. "I love you. That's all. _I love you. _And you need to realize that there are more important things than _protecting _everyone. I don't _want _to be protected anymore. You think you're broken? I'm broken, too. And broken people can't fix themselves, Remus, we don't know how. We need people to help us, people who are broken, too, because they _understand_. We need _each other. _And I don't care how dangerous you think you are, I'm an auror and a Hufflepuff, and we're specifically designed to deal with danger in a compassionate way, which is why I - mmph!"

He kissed her hard.

_Keep on dreaming._


	2. Take Me To Church

**Take Me To Church**

**Lily/Narcissa**

_[Random Quotes Challenge: "Lower your voice and strengthen your argument." - Lebanese proverb]_

_[Legendary Gods and Goddesses Competition:__ Dionysus - Write about a party. Alternatively, write about someone who experienced ecstasy.]_

_***Please take a moment to find the song Take Me To Church by Hoizer (or an instrumental version of it) and play it in the background when you read this piece. It really adds something that the words alone cannot. **_

* * *

_My lover's got humour_

_She's the giggle at a funeral_

_Knows everybody's disapproval_

_I should've worshipped her sooner_

They've told you a thousand times: Blacks are noble. Blacks are refined. Blacks are better than everyone else. You've heard it every day of your entire life. That's how you know it's true.

And that's also how you know Lily Evans is worth nothing compared to you.

Mudbloods are just that, after all: muddy. And Blacks do not allow themselves to be anything but pure.

(But how can something muddy have such clear eyes?)

* * *

_Every Sunday's getting more bleak_

_A fresh poison each week_

You're sixteen before you realize it: you need her.

How can you _not_, when she's walking perfection? The sway of her hips, the curve of her waist, the long mane of strawberry-blonde hair, the green eyes that make you think of emeralds and danger -

( - the way you feel as if you've swallowed poison when you see her walking with _Potter_.)

You don't want to be a Black anymore, haven't wanted to be one since Andromeda left. You hate them all for that, but your mother especially. Your mother, who is not even a Black by birth. Your mother, who acts as if her second-oldest daughter never existed. What right do they have to condemn someone for falling in love?

* * *

_No masters or kings when the ritual begins_

_There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin_

They've already told you you're marrying Lucius Malfoy. You don't know him. You've heard of him, but you've never _met _him, never watched him walk through the Great Hall with his nose in a book, never recognized his laugh from all the way down the corridor, never felt your veins ignite when he made eye contact with you.

(He's noble, sure. But he's no Lily.)

They've told you to marry him, though, and you know why it's a match they want. Malfoys are pure. So are Blacks. And years ago, that would have been enough a a reason. But they've taken away the sister you loved more than anything, and you don't want to be their pawn anymore, you want out of this chess game, and you want to _punish them_.

Because you are _not _a pawn. You are a fair-haired queen with a stony heart and a hard face.

(And eyes that can't help following the most un-Black person in the world.)

* * *

_Take me to church_

_I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies_

It's seventh year before you get up the nerve to talk to Lily Evans. It's Christmas the first time you let her into your Common Room. It's New Years Eve when you kiss her (and it's partly to punish your family, yes, but it's also because you _want to_).

"Cissy," Lily giggles, taking another swig of firewhiskey. "I've got to go back to James. He'll be wondering where I am."

"No." You haven't had anything to drink, but you still feel hazy and sweet and comfortably numb. "Stay here."

"He'll want his midnight kiss."

"You've already given away your midnight kiss." You say it in a low voice, and Lily has no choice but to lean in.

"Yes," she says, and her hair is falling over her face, so you gently tuck it behind her ear for her. "But I can give another one."

And you know she isn't talking about you, but you lean in and kiss her again anyway.

"James can wait," you say in an even lower voice, and you're _thrilled _to see Lily shudder. "Stay."

* * *

_Offer me that deathless death_

_Good God, let me give you my life_

You wake up with Lily tangled in your sheets, and somehow you know there is nothing left. The cries of ecstasy have ceased to echo, and whatever it was that kept you wanting more - and more, and more, and_ more - _is gone. Now that it's no longer forbidden, no longer _impossible_, it isn't something you're interested in keeping. For the first time, you think Lucius Malfoy might not be so bad.

Lily stirs. "Morning," she says, opening her bright green eyes, and you still feel nothing.

"Get out."

Lily squints. "Cissy?"

"Out."

"What's - "

"Nothing happened here last night," you say. "Nothing. You and I are nothing. And we _felt _nothing. A Black would never sleep with a mudblood."

Understanding crawls over Lily's face. Her jaw tightens. "Whatever you want," she says finally, sliding off the bed and gathering her robes from their heap on the floor. "Just - just remember, Narcissa: you're the one who asked me to stay."

"You begged for it," you remind her.

Her emerald eyes grow hard. "I'm going to find James."

"You _begged _for it," you repeat.

(You wonder what would happen if your mother found out, and the thought of it sends a little spark through you, but it dies when you hear Lily slam the door.)

* * *

_I was born sick, but I love it_

_Command me to be well_

_Amen. Amen. Amen._

And you refuse to wear the color green for the rest of your life.


	3. Just Blue

**Just Blue**

**Angelina/George**

_[Off The Block Competition: Backstroke, Extra Hard - Write a story surrounding the death of a loved one.]_

_[Legendary Gods & Goddesses Challenge: Raijin - Write about something that takes place during a thunderstorm]_

_[Interesting Words Challenge: Eternitarian - one who believes in the eternity of the soul_

_Welkin - the sky or vault of Heaven]_

_[Fan-Fiction Terms Category Competition: PM - write about someone lonely.]_

* * *

_Pale gray sky above my head_

_Dark gray road, my rolling bed_

_Close my eyes, see you instead_

Sometimes, when she was especially fed up with the baby's crying, Angelina would drop him into her husband's arms and walk out the door.

"Where are you going?" he'd said the first time, but she hadn't answered, and now he knew better than to ask.

She trekked up the grassy hill behind their house, walking as fast as she could without running, until she was far enough away that she couldn't see it anymore. Because sometimes she just needed to get away. Sometimes she needed to wander, because it was much too hard to dwell.

It was raining here, always raining, and the dirt beneath the grass turned to mud that stuck on her galoshes, but Angelina didn't mind the rain, and she didn't mind getting dirty, either. She _liked _it. It felt like playing Quidditch again, like flying at a breakneck speed through wind and sleet, and she'd _lived _for those matches, because it was heavenly to feel so raw.

She started to run. Her boots tripped her up, so she stepped out of them and let the mud squish deliciously between her toes. There was thunder in the distance, she could hear it coming up fast, and if anything it made her feel _wilder. _She wanted to outrun it. She pulled her jumper up over her head and left it in a heap on the ground and kept going.

(The baby would've stopped crying by now, and George would be looking out the window, wondering how long she'd be gone this time.)

She wanted to run so fast that she was flying, like the old days, and she wanted to go up into the welkin and pass the clouds and _find _him, and _collapse _onto him, because she loved George, really she did, but it was Fred she _wanted, _Fred she _craved_, Fred she missed more than she could ever make anyone understand.

(And it didn't matter that they'd been identical: Angelina knew the baby looked more like Fred than George. _Everyone _knew.)

Her face was wet with rain and tears, and she hated her life, she hated it, she hated it,_ she hated it. _Off came her dress, left behind in a puddle just as another roll of thunder sounded.

She ran faster, so fast that she couldn't feel her heart anymore, and not for the first time she wondered about souls.

(She knew they were real. She knew they were eternal. She just didn't know how to bring one _back_.)

She reached up behind her, still running, and yanked her hair out of its bun. The storm was catching up. She'd known it would - there was no escape from storms as large and dark and heartbreaking as these - but she put on one last burst of speed anyway, because she wasn't ready to accept her fate yet. She could keep going (no, she couldn't), she had George (he wasn't enough), she had a child (not her husband's), she had a _life _(not a good one), and it wasn't fair to them if she crumpled just because one man had died (She. Still. Needed. Him.) -

- and then her foot caught on a root, and Angelina fell.

She tumbled over herself twice and then lay on the ground in a naked heap, her hands clenched in fists around the grass, and she sobbed into the earth as the thunderstorm erupted around her.

_I'm missing you and there's not a thing to do_

_I'm blue, just blue, just blue._


	4. Sweet Disposition

**Sweet Disposition**

**Hermione/Draco**

_[Off The Block Competition: Backstroke, Hard -_ _write a drabble without using the words 'very' and 'the'.__] *you can use Control+F to search for "the"s and "very"s. But, excluding the A/N, there aren't any :D_

[_The Duct Tape Competition: Dragons - __Write about someone who isn't who they seem to be]_

* * *

_A moment -_

She stays at Hogwarts over Christmas Holiday because she wants to catch up on her work.

He stays because he's got detention from McGonagall that he's supposed to have made up weeks ago, and not even his father could get him out of it this time.

They meet behind a bookshelf by mistake (she's looking for a book, he's dusting like a Muggle), and share a few words. And both think it means nothing.

_-a love -_

But then it happens again, and again, every day for a week, and she starts to wonder whether he's doing it on purpose.

Meanwhile he's wondering if _she's _doing it on purpose.

(They both are. They just haven't realized it yet.)

_-a dream -_

She can't help but notice how much kinder he is without his friends around.

He finds himself wishing this holiday could stretch on a few more weeks.

_-a laugh - _

He keeps coming back to their bookshelf, even though his detentions were up ages ago.

(She knows.)

She's amazed at how easily he can make her blush, smile, grin, even laugh - and not just a polite chuckle, but a _real _laugh that comes from deep within her and makes her cry. It's startling, and unnerving, and unnatural (and yet so, so natural), and she can't get enough. There's a part of her that wishes they'd discovered each other years ago.

_-a kiss - _

He does it two nights before holidays end. There's no mistletoe, either. He does it because he _wants _to.

There is a second kiss later on.

And a third.

And a fourth.

But they are not infinite.

_ - a cry - _

Because suddenly Hogwarts is crawling with students again, with Slytherins and Gryffindors and old friends and old feuds.

(And it's over so much more quickly than it began.)

_- our rights -_

Yes, that was how it all felt: right.

_- our wrongs._

He never told anyone.

Neither did she.

(But they both remembered.)


	5. Good Feeling

**Good Feeling**

**FleurViktor**

_[The Off The Block Competition: Butterfly, easy - write a oneshot (800-2,500 words) about someone who doesn't love their partner.]_

**_*Rated M for smut. Or maybe not totally M. T+? Is that a thing? What I'm trying to say is, it could have been worse._**

* * *

Krum collapsed on the bed next to Fleur, breathing hard. "Zat," he said, his voice husky and raw, "vas amazing."

Fleur rolled up onto her side and began to trace gentle swirls on his shoulder with her fingertips. "I have zhat effect on people," she said, grinning. "And you vere not so bad yourself."

Krum reached up to tangle his fingers in her silvery hair. He pulled her down to meet his face and kissed her roughly. She smiled into it and climbed on top of him, her hands sliding up and down his sides, and he felt his heart rate start to increase. "You make me feel," he gasped between kisses.

She paused. "I make you feel vhat?"

He let out a strangled little gasp. "_Good_."

She smirked and began to kiss down his jaw, his neck, his collarbone, his chest. Her hands hovered at his hips, but he grabbed them and pulled her back up to his lips. "Not yet," he said.

She raised her eyebrows. "No?"

"I'm not ready yet."

"Ah." She flipped over onto her back and spread out her arms. "Zhen maybe eet ees my turn?"

He grinned and rolled up onto his knees. "But of course, dahrling."

He moved his hands over her slowly, deliciously slowly, from her knees to her hips to her waist to her shoulders to her neck. She gave him the satisfaction of watching her squirm. "Where do you vant me?" he asked, mouth close to her ear, and she shuddered.

"Anyvhere."

"Come, now," he said, still tracing up and down her skin. "Be specific."

She let out a low groan as his palm ghosted over her hip again. "Surprise me."

"Hmm." He got a wicked glint in his eye. "I don't like surprises."

"I love zhem." She had her nails digging into the skin of his back. "I can geeve you 'ints."

"Yes," he said, dipping to kiss her. "Hints." He wrapped his hands in her hair. "Do you vant me here?"

She flashed him a smile. "Cold."

He bent to take her earlobe between his teeth. "Here?"

She moaned. "Warmer."

He kissed along her jawbone. "Here?"

"Warmer."

His lips were on her neck, gently sucking and nipping.

"Mmm - warmer."

"I am beginning to think," said Krum, "zat you vant me _everywhere_."

She laughed breathlessly. "'Ow can I help it? You make me feel good, too."

"You are very beautiful," he murmured. "Zee pleasure is all mine."

His mouth had reached her knees, at the point, and she propped herself up on her elbows to look at him. "I am beautiful," she repeated. "And I give you good feelings."

"Yes."

"But you do not love me?"

He froze. "Vhy do you ask?"

She shook her head. "No, no, I do not vhant you to. I just - I was hoping zhis would be one night."

"Only one?" He had his hands off of her now.

"Yes." She brushed her hair behind her shoulder. "Because Veektor - " she leaned in, eyes wide " - I _know._"

"You know vat?"

"I know about zee _girl_."

"Ah." He manouvered himself so he was next to her and leaned back against the pillows. "Her."

"I see 'ow she looks at you," Fleur said, drawing the covers up over herself. "I see 'ow she acts with you."

He shook his head. "You - "

"But I also see 'ow she looks at zee other boy. Ron."

That was not what he'd expected. "Her friend?"

"_Oui. _She looks at him from zee corners of her eye, to make sure he is vatching. She vants him to see. She vants him to be jealous."

"You think she prefers her friend?"

Fleur nodded. "And I do not vant you to fall in love vith me, Veektor, because I vant you to believe I am not saying zhese things just to keep you by my side."

Krum furrowed his brow. "But if she prefers zee friend, why did she go to zhe ball vith me?"

Fleur lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I cannot say. But I know she does not love you, Veektor. Go on. Ask her sometime."

Krum sighed. "Herm-own-ninny is a mystery to me," he whispered. "I do not know vat she vants."

Fleur laid a comforting hand on his chest. "She vants vhat you cannot give her. Eet is not your fault. And she cannot give you vhat you vant, either, no?"

He shivered under her touch. "No," he admitted.

"She does not give you zee _good feelings_?"

He smiled slightly and turned to kiss her. "No good feelings," he confirmed. "Not like you. You give me good feelings like I have never known"

She smirked. "Are you ready yet to go again?"

He nodded, and she pounced like a lioness, sending those good feelings all the way through his body.

(But not through his heart, and that was where he needed them the most.)


	6. White Horse

**White Horse**

**Hermione/Viktor**

_[ The Book Thief Quotes Competition: __"Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness."__]_

_[The Duct Tape Challenge: __Green Zebra - Write about someone who gets hurt]_

_[Legendary Gods & Goddesses Challenge: Poseidon - Write about something that happened near the sea or lake.]_

_[Interesting Word Challenge: Wonderwall - anything that makes you happy or brightens your day, from the smallest thing to someone who means a lot to you]_

_[Off The Block Competition: Breaststroke, Medium: write a romance story including the word telescope.]_

* * *

_Stupid girl_

_I should've known_

_I should've known._

Hermione had her shoes off.

She was sitting on the dock, hands braced behind her while her feet dangled over the edge. They couldn't reach the water, but the surface was rippling anyway, disturbed very slightly by her tears.

"Herm-own-ninny?"

She squeezed her eyes shut when she heard him try to say her name. "Viktor."

His hand came down gently on her shoulder. "Vat's wrong?"

She looked out over the lake and wondered if it would be easier to just slip beneath the surface and stay there forever. "You know what's wrong."

"No, I do not."

"I saw you," she said, and her voice cracked, and she _hated herself _for crying over him. "You and Fleur."

He was quiet for a few seconds, and then: "Oh." He sat on the dock beside her.

"Oh?" she repeated. "Is that all you can say to me?"

"I am sorry, Herm-own-ninny."

"You're sorry." She laughed bitterly. "Sorry you slept with her? Sorry you slept with her _twice_? Or sorry I was watching?"

He shook his head. "Sorry zat all I can say is, 'Oh.'"

She blinked. It wasn't what she'd expected.

"I can say nothing to make it up to you," he said quietly, and for the first time she met his eyes. She could see the pain behind them, deep pain, and suddenly she wanted to forget it had ever happened. "I care for you. I do. But we are not right for each other. You belong vith another."

He pressed his lips against her forehead, and she fet the familiar chill race through her, because even though her mind knew it was over, her body still wanted him. He was her wonderwall, from head to toe to hands to face to lips to eyes, and how had her happiest thought turned so quickly into misery?

"I was doing my Astronomy homework," she said quietly. "I was in the tower, on my own, looking at the stars through my telescope, and I saw your light was turned on."

He closed his eyes. "Don't," he whispered.

"So I looked through your window, to make sure everything was okay, and I saw you. On your bed. With Fleur." She waited, but he didn't defend himself. "Is it because I wouldn't sleep with you?" she asked finally, and her voice trembled, because she already knew the answer.

"Yes."

She pretended she hadn't heard, pretended she hadn't asked. "Is it because I'm not beautiful?"

He looked at her, shocked. "You do not think you are beautiful?"

"Is it because I did something wrong?"

"No." He grabbed her wrists and pulled them to his chest. "It is because I am foolish, and I do not know a good thing vhen I have it, even vhen it is right there in my hands."

She waited for the rest, but he said nothing more. "So why aren't you _begging?_" she asked. "Why aren't you asking me to forgive you? To take you back? Because - " But she stopped herself before she finished that thought.

_Because I'll say yes._

"Because that's how they do it in books," she finished.

He smiled sadly. "But life is not a book," he said. "You are no princess, and zhis is no fairy tale. And sometimes, zhe first person you touch is not zhe person who gives you your happy ending."

For some reason, that made it all real. It was _ending_. It had never been perfect, but it had been _hers_, and just because it was broken didn't mean she wanted to throw it away.

The tears spilled over and Hermione began to sob. He coaxed her into his arms and let her cry into him.

"Isn't it silly," she said through her tears, "that even though you hurt me, I still want you?"

He pressed a kiss into her hair. "You do not deserve someone like me," he whispered. "I vill not let you settle." He carefully detached her from his shirt and stood.

"Where are you going?" she sniffled.

He pointed to the beginning of the dock, where a redheaded boy was leaning against a tree and trying very hard to act like he hadn't seen the whole thing. "Your friend will take care of you," he said, and then he turned and walked toward the Quidditch pitch.

"Wait," she called, but he didn't, and she got to her feet shakily and began to wipe her eyes. As calmly as she could, she left the dock and started for the castle. Ron didn't look at her as she passed, but after a few paces she heard him swear under his bereath, and then he was running after her.

"'Mione," he said when he'd caught up. "Just - just come here."

He opened his arms, and she fell into them and cried into his shoulder, and even when her tears ran out he didn't let go, just continued to hold her almost as tightly as she was holding him, and together they watched the sun set over the lake.


	7. The A Team

**The A-Team**

**Narcissa/Sirius**

_[The Book Thief Competition: "Somewhere in all the snow, she could see her broken heart, in two pieces."]_

_[Off The Block Competition: FREESTYLE Medium - write your NOTP (one pairing you'd never ever ship in a million years)]_

_[Legendary Gods & Goddesses Challenge: Nephthys **-** write about an arranged marriage.]_

_[Duct Tape Challenge: Lips - write about your OHP - one hated pairing]_

* * *

_White lips, pale face_

_Breathing in the snowflakes_

"I don't wanna marry _Narcissa!"_

"Sirius, don't make a scene." His mother bent to straighten his little bowtie.

"Mum!" He pulled away. "She's my _cousin!_"

"Hush."

He scowled. "I won't do it," he mumbled, but his mother shushed him again and shooed him out into the ballroom with the other relatives.

Narcissa stood off to the side with her sisters. Sirius made a beeline for her white-blonde head. "Narcissa!"

They were the same age - both nearly eight - but she was nearly a head taller. Her dress, embroidered with lacey snowflakes that matched the color of her skin, swished around her knees as she turned. "Yes?"

"I'm not gonna marry you."

Bellatrix laughed. "Yes, you are. Mummy's already told us."

"Why don't you wanna marry her?" Andromeda asked.

"Because she's my cousin."

"Your parents are cousins," Andromeda said.

"You think I want to be anything like my parents?"

"Your bowtie is crooked," Narcissa said quietly. She leaned down to adjust it for him.

"Stop it!" He pushed her off. She stumbled.

"Don't hurt our sister," Bellatrix warned. "Don't you _dare." _Her wand was suddenly clutched in her fist. "I'll _curse _you if you hurt her."

"You're a second year. What curses could you possibly know?"

Bella grinned. "_Crucio,_" she whispered, and Sirius felt his muscles burn.

He managed to remain standing. "Come on," he said."You can do better than _that._"

She growled. _"Cru - "_

"Ah, here are my lovely nieces!" said Sirius' father, and Bella quickly hid her wand behind her back. "Come on, Sirius, ask your betrothed for a dance!"

"But _Dad -_"

"Sirius." His eyes were stony, and Sirius sighed and took Narcissa's hands.

"D'you waltz?" she asked.

He snorted. "No. Dancing's for girls."

"Fine." Suddenly her hand was at his waist. "I suppose I'll have to lead." And then she was pushing him around the dance floor like a mop. "You'd better take lessons before our wedding," she said. "You're terrible."

"There isn't going to _be _a wedding."

She turned them in a smooth circle. "Are you afraid of your father, Sirius?"

"No."

"Then why did you agree to dance with me?"

He didn't answer.

Her pale smile was not unkind. "So either you're afraid of your father, or you're in love with me. Either way, Sirius, there'll be a wedding."

* * *

_We're all under the upper hand_

_Go mad for a couple grams_

Narcissa caught him in the corridor just after the Sorting. "Sirius," she whispered, eyes wide. "What have you _done?_"

"What d'you mean?"

"_Gryffindor?"_

"Oh." He shrugged. "Guess I'm not like the rest of the Blacks. Pity, that." He started to walk away, but she grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. "_What?_"

"I can't marry a Gryffindor. I'll be the disgrace of the family. I'll go _mad._"

"Guess you'd better find a new husband, then."

"You know it's not that easy. Go find Professor Dumbledore and fix this."

"The Hat put me in Gryffindor," he said, "and that's where I'll stay. So long, Cissy. See you at the wedding." He loped off to the Gryffindor common room.

_"Sirius!"_

But he didn't turn around.

* * *

_She don't wanna go outside_

_Tonight_

He was on his knees in the snow, wincing as pain shot through every nerve in his body, but he didn't care, he'd done it, he'd finally stood up to his father, he'd _finally broken free from his family._

"Sirius," Narcissa whispered behind him. She sounded haunted. "I saw - all of it."

He let out a bark of laughter. "What, my dad torturing me? Thanks for stepping in."

"What did he mean when he said - you weren't a Black anymore?"

"I'm out of the family. Disowned. Off the Tree. You probably don't have to marry me now," he added. "Lucky you."

"But who - " She looked confused, and scared, and _cold_. "Who _am_ I going to marry, then?"

Sirius shrugged. "Whoever you love. That's what normal people do."

Narcissa shook her head rapidly to discourage the snowflakes settling into her ivory hair. "Look, maybe if you go back in and apologize," she began, but he cut her off.

"Apologize? Why?"

"Don't you want back in the family?"

"No." He stood. "I've wanted _out _of this family ever since they told me to marry my _cousin."_

She looked shocked, as if someone had ripped out her heart and left it to freeze in the snow. "I didn't want to marry you, either," she said quietly, but he saw the pain in her eyes, and a part of him thought that maybe that wasn't so true.

* * *

_Stuck in her daydream_

_Been this way since eighteen_

He had to get to the Ministry, had to save Harry, had to find Moony, had to go _now -_

"Sirius?"

He froze. "Cissy?" _Of course, the one person walking down this street at midnight was _her.

She looked at him through wide eyes. "I thought you were dead."

He shook his head. "Just on the run." _Run. Go. Have to find Harry._

But he didn't go, not yet. "You got married after all, I hear. Malfoy. Excellent choice. Sure your mummy was proud." He couldn't help but say it bitterly.

She bit her white lip. "Lucius is a good man," she said firmly as she put a hand on her shoulder, and his chest was slammed with the memory of a clumsy waltz with a girl dressed in snowflakes. "But he was never what I wanted."

Sirius fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm sorry you didn't get the wedding you dreamed of as a kid," he said. "I'm sorry you were bettrothed against your will to the family disappointment. But Cissy, I really have to - "

"I _chose_ you, actually."

"What?"

She had to tilt her chin all the way back to see his face. "My mother sat us down and asked which purebloods we wanted to marry. Bella said Rodolphus. Andromeda said Travers. And I chose you."

"You _wanted _to - but why?"

"Because you're not like the rest of them! I don't want to be like the rest of them, not since they disowned Dromeda. Before that, even." She took a deep breath. "I want to be like you."

He shook his head. "Cissy . . . I can't . . . I have to _go . . . "_

She closed her eyes. "I know."

She looked pitiful, though and so he pulled her into his arms and held her there awhile. "I'll come back," he murmured in her ear. "For you."

He had no intention of keeping that promise.

(Turns out he couldn't have if he'd wanted to.)


	8. Far Away

**Far Away**

**Hermione/George**

_[Off The Block Competition: Butterfly Medium - write about something happening at the Burrow.__]_

_[The Book Thief Quotes Competition: "The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy who loves you."]_

_[Interesting Words Challenge: Cwtsh (welsh) - a hug or cuddle; a safe place]_

_[Legendary Gods & Goddesses Challenge: Hermes - Write about someone who went on a trip.]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Sneezy -write about George Weasley.]_

_[Unresolved Sexual Tension Competition]_

* * *

_I will live my life as a lobsterman's wife on an island in the blue bay..._

_I will bear three girls all with strawberry curls, little Ella and Nelly and Faye…_

_Far away, far away, I wanna go far away…._

"Vould you like to dance?"

His voice startled Hermione out of her own thoughts. "No, thank you," she said to Viktor Krum. "I don't really feel like dancing."

"Oh." He looked sullen, and she almost opened her mouth to remind him that he was the one who had broken up with her, he was the one who had cheated (with the bride of the wedding they were attending, no less), but it wouldn't do any good, and it would probably be lost in translation anyway, so she said nothing. "Okay." He walked back the way he had come.

"Well, that was harsh."

Fred and George sat down on either side of her. She groaned and sank down in her chair. "What a spectacularly rude rejection," Fred said. "That poor, poor boy."

"I just don't like to dance," she said, not looking directly at the twins.

"Be that as it may," George said, "you still said it harshly."

"Indeed," said Fred as someone called his name from the dance floor. He jumped up, gave Hermione a disapproving shake of the head, and disappeared into the crowd.

"So what did Krum do to merit such a harsh rejection from Prefect Granger?" George asked. "Did you catch him out after hours?"

"No. I don't want to talk about it." But she should've known that would only encourage him.

"Did he sit on a library book?"

"No! Stop it."

"Was he late for a class?"

"_George._"

"Did he - "

" - cheat on me with Fleur Delacour?" Hermione finished sharply. "Yes, George. Yes, he did."

George didn't say anything for a few awkward moments. "So he did break a rule, then," he said finally.

She laughed. "Yes, I suppose he did."

"Ah, Merlin, Hermione, I didn't know it was anything like that."

She sighed. "He told me he still loved me afterwards, too - which only made things worse. I'd rather have him hate me. I would have felt less guilty that way. How is it that the only thing worse than a boy who hates you is a boy who loves you?"

George looked uncomfortable. "D'you want me to hit him?" he asked. "I'll go get him."

She laughed. "No, no, it's all right." She picked at the strap of the purse hanging from her wrist. "I wish I were far away from here," she said quietly.

George stood. "Let's go, then." He offered her his hand.

"Oh, no - I was just going to go inside for awhile. I didn't mean you should leave the party."

He didn't retract his hand. "The party's boring anyway."

She let him pull her up, and then they were ducking out from the wedding tent and slipping inside the Burrow. George collapsed onto the couch, not bothering to turn on any lights. She could've done it - all it would take was a flick of her wand - but she left them off.

George patted the cushion next to him. "Sit."

She did.

"So," George said, propping his feet up on a low table, "Viktor Krum cheated on you. And then asked you to dance at his mistress' wedding."

"Yes."

"Shame, that. What about Cormac McLaggen, then?"

She laughed. "Cormac was one date to make Ron angry."

"Ahh, irritating Ickle Ronnie? A woman after my own heart."

Grinning, she shook her head. "Ron's not so bad." She reached up behind her and pulled her hair free of its pins. She leaned into the sofa and tipped her head back. "I wish I were far away," she said again.

"If you want me to leave," George started, but she grabbed his shoulder.

"No, no, that's not what I meant." She tilted her head so she could look at him. There was just enough moonlight to make his face visible. "I just - I wish I could get out of here. Leave all this stress behind. Find an island, settle down."

"That's not the worst idea I've ever heard. Not by a long shot."

She smiled and nudged him with her toe. "You could come too," she offered.

He grinned. "I'd be a - whaddaya call 'em - a fishyman. But I wouldn't bother to do it like a Muggle, with bait and all that. I'd just Summon the fish."

"And we'd have three girls, all with curly red hair."

"And nobody would come bothering us."

"No more risking our lives just by walking outside."

"No more constant worrying about our families."

"No more You-Know-Who."

He was looking at her lips.

She knew what he was going to before he did it, and she did nothing to stop it.

He was warm against her, his arms firm and strong as they wound around her waist and pulled her in close, and she didn't feel butterflies, the way she had with Viktor, or fireworks, the way girls did in books, she just felt _safe_, and that was something Hermione had not felt in a very long time.

"So we'll go far away," he whispered to her. "After all this wedding madness is over. Take a trip, not tell anyone when we'll be returning."

She smiled. "It's a nice thought. But I have to stay. Harry needs me."

"Our island needs you, too." And it hurt _so much _that he called it "ours," as if it already belonged to both of them, because it didn't, it never would, life was too complicated for something as simple as daydreams.

"We'll go someday."

He leaned in to kiss her again.

There was a scream outside, and they both jerked away from each other to see what was happening - her eyes went to the window, his flew to the clock on the mantlepiece - and then she was across the room with her hand on the doorknob.

"Someday," she promised as she closed the door.


	9. Free Falling

**Free Falling**

**Ginny/Colin Creevey**

_[The Book Thief Quotes Competition: "She was saying goodbye and she didn't even know it."]_

_[Off The Block Competition: Butterfly, Hard - write about the first Harry Potter person you've ever written - _**_Ginny_**_]_

_[Interesting Words Challenge: Fÿrgebræc (old English) - "fire break"; the distinct, sharp crackling or breaking sound made by a fire]_

_[Legendary Gods & Goddesses Challenge: Anubis - Write about someone who died.]_

_[Disney Character Competition: __Bambi's Mother - Write about a character whose death saddened you.__]_

_[Die Hard Challenge: Death by murder]_

* * *

_She's a good girl..._

Their first kiss is beneath the stairwell before Transfiguration one day.

It's her first kiss since Tom Riddle, and his first kiss _ever_, and neither of them really knows what to do with their hands.

And twelve is too young, too young, too young to fall in love, so Ginny makes sure she doesn't.

* * *

_I wanna write her name in the sky_

Their second kiss is after the Yule Ball, when Ginny comes back to the common room and gives Neville a quick peck goodnight and collapses on the couch in front of the pleasantly crackling fire. She kicks off her shoes and rubs at her eyes, smearing black makeup all over herself, but she doesn't care. There is no one to see her now.

Except there is. Colin is hidden away behind the table, fast asleep until one of her shoes lands on his head. "Mmph?" he groans as he stands up, his hair disheveled (like another Gryffindor boy she knows) and his cheek marred with the imprint of the carpet.

"Sorry," she whispers, getting up to retrieve her shoe. "I didn't mean to."

"Did you have a good time at the Ball?"

She nods and stretches back out on the couch. "Sorry for waking you."

He shrugs. "Ah, well, I'm up now." She shifts her legs so he can sit, and then replaces them so they're lying across his lap. "I'm glad you had fun."

She nods. "Me, too."

They both lean in at the same time - his first kiss since her, her first kiss since Neville a moment ago - and they're older now, but thirteen is still too young, too young, too young to have a boyfriend, so Ginny doesn't even mention it the next morning.

* * *

_I'm a bad boy for breaking her heart..._

Their third kiss is after Quidditch practice, when she's soaking wet and he's working on his Transfiguration homework.

"Ginny! Thank goodness. Did you finish the Transfiguration?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "Going to do it now. As soon as I'm out of these clothes. You want to do it together?"

He nods. "Please."

Once she's dry she sits down with him in front of the fireplace and walks him through Switching Spells. They're all alone, she can't help but notice, and she's had a hard day, and Transfiguration isn't exactly the most exciting topic, so when they reach a lull she pulls him in by his robes and kisses him - her first since Dean, his first since Demelza Robins, only that's meant to be a secret - but he pulls back first this time.

"Ginny," he says quietly. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to do this again."

"What, snog? What's wrong with my snogging?"

"Not that. I don't want . . . I want a girlfriend, Ginny, and I don't think you're exactly girlfriend material."

"I could be your girlfriend," she says indignantly, and as soon as it's out of her mouth she knows it's true. He's a sweet boy, and eager, and lovable, and definitely good at kissing.

But he shakes his head. "I know you like Harry. And I'm sort of with Demelza, anyway."

She leans back on her heels. "Oh," she says, and nothing more, because fifteen is too young, too young, too young to have a broken heart, so she pretends she doesn't even care.

* * *

_Gonna leave this world for awhile..._

The fourth time they kiss, she's pretty sure he's already dead.

There are walls and windows exploding all around them, and curses flying, and Death Eaters _everywhere_, and she's enraged and horrified and _scared _all at the same time, and she isn't sure how but she's managing to doge the green jets of light as they fly within inches of her skin.

Not everyone is so lucky.

"HARRY!" she shrieks as she sees a boy with disheveled hair hit the ground, but it's not Harry -_ thank God - _it's Colin - _oh, no _- and it wasn't Avada Kedavra, because she can see him moving, hear him screaming, and she runs to him as fast as she can.

"Ginny?" he pants. There is blood _everywhere_. "I dunno what they hit me with. But I'm bleeding, Ginny, and - and everything _hurts_ - and - "

"Shh." She takes his face in her hands. "You're going to be okay," she promises fiercely, even though he's growing cold in her arms. "You're _fine_, you're _fine, _you're _fine . . . "_

His eyelids fluttered. "Feels like I'm falling," he murmured. "Catch me. Please?"

The tears are pouring from her eyes. "I will, I will, I promise." She bends down to capture his lips between hers - it's her first kiss since Harry, and his last kiss _ever,_ and it's the only way she knows how to say goodbye without letting him know he's dying - and with a feeble little gasp, he goes still, and all that's left of him is the blood she can still taste on her lips.

(And it doesn't matter that sixteen is too young, too young, too young to die.)

_And I'm free, free falling._


	10. Angels on the Moon

**Angels on the Moon**

**Lily/Severus**

_[Hogwarts House Painting Competition]_

_[Legendary Gods & Goddesses Challenge: Chandra - Write about someone/something beautiful.]_

_[Interesting Words Challenge: __Verklempt - completely overcome with emotion__]_

_[Book Thief Quote Competition: "They'd been standing like that for thirty seconds of forever."]_

_[Duct Tape Challenge: Camouflage - Write about Snape]_

_[Off The Block Competition: Breaststroke, Hard - Write about a muggleborn.]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Prince Ferdinand - write about Snape and Lily.]_

* * *

_Don't tell me if I'm dying,_

_'Cause I don't want to know._

In the side drawer of his desk is a creased photograph of a girl.

She's young, maybe nine years old, and she's got her arms wound around the neck of a black-haired boy, and both of them are grinning.

When he's particularly overcome with emotion (which is often, even after all this time), he pulls open the drawer and very gently takes out the photograph. The girl and the boy always look so excited to see him; they wave up at him, and shout their hellos, and dodge with little shrieks of laughter when his tears hit their glossy surface.

"You're sad again, Adult-Sev," the girl in the photograph accuses, crossing her arms over her chest. "What's wrong? Maybe we can help."

Snape shakes his head. "Don't worry about the future," he says, cupping them in his palms. "The future is going to be hard on the two of you."

"What's coming?" the boy asks. "Will we be okay?"

They ask this question every time, and he never answers it honestly. Because no, they won't be okay. One of them is going to die, and the other is going to be _destroyed_, and what good is it to fill their young heads with worry when they aren't going to have that future anyway? "You'll be fine," he whispers, and when Lily eyes him distrustfully he hurts all over, because that face is _familiar_, and he wishes she could still look at him that way, he wishes he had done it all differently, from the very day he'd met her. . . .

"Of course _we'll _be fine," Lily says. "We're a photograph. We're a tiny, thirty-second moment of forever. But what happens to _you_?"

He sighs. "Things go wrong."

"Like what?" Her eyes are wide. "Is it _You-Know-Who_?"

She doesn't know who You-Know-Who is. In her nine-year-old world, Voldemort has not yet risen to power. But she had once coaxed some details out of him, and now she brings up the Dark Lord on every occassion.

"No." _It's me. I'm the one who betrays you. I'm the one who tells him about the prophecy. I'm the one who lets him target you, who doesn't even _warn _you. I'm the one who kills you. _"It's not You-Know-Who."

"You're lying," the boy says. "I know what you look like when you lie. I'm _you_, remember?"

And Snape can't help but smile, because at least the boy is there to take care of Lily, at least they're together, even if it's only in the past. "It is You-Know-Who," he says. "But it's a lot of other things first."

"Like what?" Lily doesn't look scared. Lily doesn't _get _scared.

"The Sorting," Snape says. "You're a Gryffindor, I'm a Slytherin."

"We know about that one," young Severus says. "You already told us. Tell us the You-Know-Who part!"

"Does Sev die?" Lily asks immediately. "I'll bet you die." She pats her friend on the shoulder. "Sorry," she says with a sad little smile. "Bad luck."

Young Severus rolls his eyes. "I don't die," he says. "I'm talking to us right now."

"Oh." She looks up at Snape. "Right. Well, maybe your mum dies? Or my mum?"

"Nobody's mum."

"Maybe . . . Our friends?"

He closes his eyes. "Some friends, yes."

"Which ones?" she asks.

"You haven't met them yet."

"Tell me their names anyway."

She's burning with a morbid curiosity, he can see it in her eyes (_Merlin, those eyes)_, and he's weak, because even after all this time he can't deny her anything.

"Marlene. Sirius. James."

"They sound nice," Lily says. "It's a shame they died. Were we close friends?"

_Yes._ "No."

"Well that's alright, then."

"There's something more," young Severus says, squinting up at Snape. "Something else."

Snape closes his eyes. "Don't worry about the future," he says to the photograph.

"Someone else dies! Tell us who!"

"Please don't make me," he whispers, and his hands are shaking.

"Is it me?" Lily asks quietly.

Snape doesn't answer.

"It _is _you!" young Severus says. "Ha! You're going to die! Bad luck," he adds in a bad impression of her, but she doesn't look at him.

"Severus? Am I the one who dies? Am I the reason you're so sad?"

"Don't make me," Snape whispers again, and there are tears falling from his eyes again, one drop at a time, like a leaky faucet trying its hardest to close itself off.

"Don't tell me, then," she says gently. "Don't tell me if I die. I don't want to know."

"I do," complains young Sev under his breath.

"I'll be okay, Sev," Lily says with a brave smile. "Remember? I'm just a photograph. I'm not even part of your future."

And it's that, more than anything, that breaks him.

"I have to go," Snape says suddenly, dropping the photo back in his drawer and slamming it shut. His heart is pounding in his ears, making him dizzy, making him see spots - green spots - like her eyes -

With a shuddery gasp, he flicks his wand and lights the desk on fire.

He sinks down to his knees in the corner of his office and stares at the blaze until it's dwindled down to nothing but ash.

And when it's over, he doesn't even care that he's killed her.

(Because it's not like this is the first time.)


	11. Trouble

**Trouble**

**Hermione/Fred**

_[Off the Block Competition: Backstroke, Medium __- ignore canon and write fanon pairings only__]_

_[On This Day Competition: Easy - day: __May 25th; genre: romance; prompts: gently, pristine__]_

_[Legendary Gods & Goddesses Challenge : Apollo - Write about a highly skilled and enlightened person. Alternatively, write about a beautiful male character.]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Lumiere - write about Fred Weasley]_

* * *

_Trouble been doggin' my soul since the day I was born_

Fred had felt worse pain than this before.

Much, _much _worse.

Like the time he'd fallen off his broom when he was eight and broken his ankle, and then hobbled around on it for three weeks to avoid telling Mum. Or when he and George had been running from Filch and tried to pop through a door that was actually just a section of wall _pretending _to be a door. Or last summer, when he'd tested the first Puking Pastille and had an upset stomach for weeks.

All of those were worse pain than this.

Really.

"You're bleeding through your bandage again," George said from his bed when Fred got up to their room.

Fred looked down at his hand. Sure enough, the white cloth he'd bound tightly over his wound was soaked with blood.

"Mine is, too," George added, holding up his hand to show him.

"Does yours still sting?" Fred asked.

"All the time."

Fred groaned. "I don't _understand._ It's May 25th. That's six weeks since we left Hogwarts. Six bloody weeks_ - "_

George snorted. "Bloody."

"Six bloody _weeks _since our last detention with Umbridge. So why - " he paused to unwrap his bandage " - won't it stop - " he threw it on the floor " - _bleeding?_" He held his hand to the light, where the roughly scrawled _I must not tell lies _was still oozing blood.

"Beats me." George tapped his bandage with his wand. The blood disappeared. "I've been cleaning it every few hours, but it keeps coming back."

"So what are we supposed to do? Sit here and wait to bleed out?"

"We can't go to St. Mungo's. We don't have the money."

Fred stooped to retrieve his bandage. "I know someone smarter than all of St. Mungo's combined," he said. "And she's free."

"Who, Hermione? Good luck," George said as he admired the pristine skin on the back of his other hand.

"Aren't you coming?"

"And sit through a lecture from Prefect Granger? I'd rather bleed to death."

"Well, then, George. For once in our lives, we're not identical."

George snorted. "Call the Prophet."

Fred grinned as he turned on the spot and disappeared.

* * *

_I've been saved by a woman_

_She won't let me go_

Hermione was in the common room finishing her homework when she heard someone outside arguing with the Fat Lady.

" . . . Don't have the password, I can't let you in!" the portrait said.

"You _know _me," the other voice snapped, and Hermione looked up, because she _knew _that voice. She crossed to the portrait hole and swung the Fat Lady forward.

"Fred Weasley," she said, shaking her head. "So you've come to your senses."

"What?" Fred, with a rude hand gesture at the Fat Lady, stepped inside. "About what?"

"Coming back to Hogwarts!"

Fred sat down in an armchair. "I'm not back. I'm just in a little bit of trouble." He held up a bandaged hand. "It's from Umbridge," he said. "It hasn't stopped bleeding since we left. We think she cursed the pen to make it worse for the students she hates the most."

Hermione was torn between helping and giving him a speech about education, but help won out in the end. She knelt on the ground and gently took his injured hand between both of hers. "Umbridge is terrible," she said as she unwound the bandage. "I wouldn't put it past - oh, _Fred!_"

"What?"

Unlike Harry, whose scars had healed over the next day, Fred's hand was bleeding freely. Hermione whipped out her wand and Vanished the blood, but more rushed out to take its place. Tears sprang to her eyes. How could someone be so _evil?_

"Oh, don't cry, it's just a bit of blood," Fred started, but she shook her head.

"Not the blood." She began to rummage through her bag, one hand still holding his. "How could someone _do _this to another person? How could she do this to you?"

"I'm all right, honestly."

She found what she was looking for: a flask labeled Murtlap Essence. She emptied the bottle into a large bowl. "Here," she said, guiding his hand into the bowl. "This will help with the pain."

"Thank you."

She bobbed her head once.

"It's good to see you again," he said. "Home isn't the same without Prefect Granger scolding us all the time."

She laughed, but there wasn't much humor in it.

"Merlin, Hermione, I'm _all right_."

She looked up at him. She'd never done that before, never _really_ looked at him. He was a redhead, sure, with the trademark Weasley freckles, but he was also _handsome, _with a strong jaw and high cheekbones and long eyelashes that cast shadows over his face when he looked down at her. He was hurt, too, and she'd always been a sucker for stories where the damsel saves the hero. "Y-your hand should be done," she whispered. "Bring some murtlap home to George, if he's still bleeding."

He pulled his hand out of the liquid and dried it on his robes. "Thanks," he said, standing. She stood with him. "Really. Thank you."

He was looking at her, too, she realized, and she suddenly felt very warm and fluttery. "Don't go," she said before she could think about the words.

He smirked, but there was a genuine smile in his eyes. "Oh, my, does Prefect Granger have a little crush?"

She turned red. "I just want to make sure you're okay," she snapped.

He reached out, almost as if he couldn't help himself, and gently touched her cheek with the hand that was no longer bleeding. "I'm okay."

She took a step closer. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "But I'll be sure to visit often in case anything else goes wrong."

Without giving herself time to think, she turned her head and gave him a quick kiss.

He raised his eyebrows. She closed her eyes and waited for the jokes, the ridicule, the Prefect comments, the _humiliation._

But all he said was, "_Extremely _often," and then he was out the door.


	12. If I Ain't Got You

**If I Ain't Got You**

**Cho/Cedric**

_[Off The Block Competition: Freestyle, Easy - write your OTP]_

_[The Book Thief Quote Competition: "Two weeks to change the world, fourteen days to destroy it."]_

_[Legendary Gods & Goddesses Challenge: Aruna-Write about something that happens during the sunrise.]_

_[Interesting Words Challenge: Oriflamme (latin and French) - a symbol or standard that inspires confidence, devotion, or courage]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Nala -write about Cho Chang.]_

_[Oh The Thinks You Can Think Challenge: The Grinch - write about someone who feels alone]_

_[Fan-Fiction Terms Category Competition: Ship - write about someone popular]_

* * *

_Some people want diamond rings…_

They were sitting by the lake and talking about everything and nothing.

"Look," she said when gold began to stain the sky. "Sunrise. So much for staying out here for five minutes, eh?"

He threaded her ringless fingers through his, gently crushing her left hand against his right one. "Mmmm. But it's beautiful, right?"

"Beautiful," she echoed, meeting his blue eyes. "I could sit here forever."

He kissed her.

A thought surfaced in her mine, one she'd had about him before but never quite knew how to ask. "Do you want to?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"Sit here. With me. Forever." _Til death do us part._

He squeezed her hand. "I do."

She was suddenly aware of her heartbeat. "Really?"

A nod. A quick kiss.

She couldn't breathe. She waited for him to continue, to finish the vow, but the silence was already settling in around them again, and as the stars melted into the dawn, the promise quietly died. "I love you, you know," she told him.

"I love you, too. Always will."

(And neither one knew it, but he only had 131 days left to live.)

* * *

_Some just want everything..._

They were sitting by the fire in her common room after the Second Task.

She was wrapped up in a giant fizzy robe, and he was wrapped up in her, and she'd never been quite so content. "So I'm the one thing you'd sorely miss," she teased, gathering her wet hair into a bun on the top of her head.

He kissed her temple. She snuggled closer to him. "You're my everything," he said. "I love you."

Under the robe, she began to twist her still-ringless fingers together. "I love you more."

He grinned. "That will never be a possibility."

"That's the _only _possibility." _I know it is. I know I love you more. Because you haven't asked me to marry you yet._

Never mind that they were only sixteen. Never mind that she was going to into Magical Law Enforcement and he wanted to stick with Quidditch. Never mind that they had their whole lives ahead of them. She was ready to let it all end here.

"You won't win this battle," Cedric told her.

"Ah." She smiled. "It's adorable that you think that."

"It's adorable that you don't realize I've already won."

The silence settled in again as they gazed, lost in thought, at the fire.

"You should go back to your common room," Cho said when sunlight began to stream through the window. "You've been here all night." She stood and offered him her hand.

He took it - and pulled her back down into his lap. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm with you. Wherever you go."

_Is that your way of proposing? _She wanted to ask it so badly, but she swallowed the question and kissed him instead.

(And neither one knew it, but he only had 119 days to live.)

* * *

_Some people want it all,_

_But I don't want nothing at all_

_If I ain't got you, baby_

They were standing out on the Quidditch pitch, looking up at the stars.

"Two weeks until you have to go in there," Cho reminded him, pointing at the giant maze.

He snorted. "Two weeks until I emerge in triumph, you mean."

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "How d'you think the others will do?"

"All right, I think."

She laughed. "That's quite vague. Don't be so nice all the time. Tell me what you really think."

"What I really think?" He shrugged her off so he could look into her eyes. "I think the others haven't got a _prayer _compared to me, because I've got the best prize in the world waiting for me when I come out, and I'd give up a thousand Triwizard Tournaments for her."

Cho let her ringless fingers lie still. "Let me guess, you're talking about Susan Bones, right?" she teased.

He smirked. "I'm talking about the one thing I'd sorely miss, actually."

"Ah, so pudding in the Great Hall?"

He shook his head and stood up. His hand went into his pocket at the same time as he lowered himself onto one knee. "You. All of you. Every single piece of you. Your face, and your heart, and your mind, and the things I haven't even discovered yet. And all I want is to keep you, and hold you, and cherish you for the rest of my life."

She swallowed as he pulled out the box with the ring in it.

"Will you make me the luckiest man alive and marry me?"

"Oh, _Ced. . ."_

"Not now, of course," he added hastily. "We'd finish Hogwarts first. I know this is abrupt, I just . . . Something told me if I didn't do it now, I'd never get the chance."

"It took you long enough," she whispered with a teary giggle, and he caught her up in his arms. "I love you," she said over and over against his lips as the sun broke the horizon, and a beautiful silence settled over them as they lost themselves in kisses.

(And neither one knew it, but he only had fourteen days - two weeks - _not long enough_ - left to live.)

* * *

_Everything means nothing if I ain't got you._

She was sitting by the lake, her ringless fingers clenched in a fist around the engagement band she could no longer wear.

And the world was so miserable that not even the rising sun could pierce the darkness.

And the silence was everywhere.

(Because both of them knew now that he was out of time to live.)


	13. Carry On

**Carry On**

**Regulus/Snape**

_[Disney Character Competition: Christopher Robin - Write about a problem solved creatively.]_

_[Off The Block Competition: Breaststroke, Extra Hard - include the quote: "All the courage within me will light a flame, I won't run anymore."]_

_[Legendary Gods & Goddesses Challenge: Ammut - Write about someone who is assisting someone else.]_

_[Interesting Words Challenge: Gotong-royong (Malay, Indonesian) - the joint sharing of burdens; the bearing of the weight of the world together with trusted friends]_

_[Random Quote Challenge: "I shall be telling this with a sigh / Somewhere ages and ages hence: / Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, / I took the one less traveled by, / And that has made all the difference."]_

* * *

_If you're lost and alone_

_Or you're sinking like a stone,_

_Carry on._

One of them agreed to it because he couldn't take it any longer.

He couldn't stand watching her, listening to her, sitting near her, smelling the sweet shampoo waft from her red hair, helping her, confiding her, _dreaming _about her, and _knowing he could never have her._ He wasn't allowed, he knew, to want her that way, not if he wanted to keep coming to the secret meetings in the dungeons. So it was no surprise that he jumped on the opportunity to put her out of his mind.

The other one agreed to it because he was bored, and also partly because he liked to stir up trouble, and his cousin Narcissa had done something similar once and caused an uproar in the family.

"So . . . How do we begin this?" Snape asked.

Regulus shrugged. "You think I've ever done this before?"

"When you suggested it, I assumed you'd have some idea of what you were doing, Black."

Reg raised his eyebrows. "It's not like I go around doing stuff like this all the time," he said. "I just thought, you know, it's an outlet, right? And you need a distraction from that Mudblood you're lusting after, so why not - y'know, try this?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't call her that," he said in a low voice.

"I know she was your friend once, Severus, but it's time to let go. You know how the Dark Lord feels about their kind."

"And what," Snape snapped, "you think the Dark Lord is going to smile on what _we're _about to do?"

Reg raised his hands in surrender. "Look, if you don't want to do it, I won't force you. I'm perfectly happy finding someone else who'll try it with me. I just thought I'd offer, seeing as you need some, ah, _assistance _getting over her."

Snape set his jaw. "Any respectable Slytherin would tell you to get lost," he said.

Reg nodded. "I know."

"Anyone else would find a different distraction."

Reg shrugged. "So find a different distraction. Or . . . " He leaned forward until his face was only an inch away from Snape's. "Gather your courage and take the road less traveled." He leaned back, licking his lips. "You might even find you like it."

Snape bit his lip. "You really want to do this with me?" he said.

"Of course! I'm here to share your burdens, mate. Your problems are my problems. And I will gladly provide any solutions I can think of. Like this one, for example. Which you have now been putting off for . . . " He trailed off as he checked his watch. "Almost two days."

Snape sighed. "I have no courage," he muttered.

Reg leaned forward, his hand cupped around his ear. "What was that?"

"You said to gather my courage. I have none. I'm not in Gryffindor, in case you hadn't noticed."

Reg chuckled. "I know you're not in Gryffindor. A Gryffindor would've had no problem taking me up on this offer." He took Snape's hands. "Listen. Just muster all the courage within you - it doesn't have to be a lot - and light it like a flame." He freed one hand to reach into a pocket of his robes. "Don't run anymore, Sev," he said, pulling out his hand. "Just take this - " he pressed the ball of yarn into Snape's hand " - and these - " he produced two knitting needles " - and learn to knit the Muggle way with me."

With a deep breath, Snape took the yarn and began to wind it around the needle. "If anyone catches us doing this, Black, I swear I'll tell everyone you Imperiused me."

Reg patted Snape on the back and pulled out a knitting project of his own. "Just carry on with your knitting, Sev," he said absently, trying in vain to form the loose strands of yarn into any kind of recognizable pattern without using his wand. "I guarantee it'll prove to be the distraction of a lifetime."


	14. Cowboy Casanova

**Cowboy Casanova**

**Lavender/Charlie**

_[Off The Block Competition: Butterfly, Extra Hard - write an AU]_

_[Interesting Words Challenge: Alharaca (Spanish) - an extraordinary or violent emotional reaction to a small issue]_

_[Book Thief Quote Competition: "If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter."]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Snow White - write about the results of someone trusting a stranger.]_

_[Oh The Thinks You Can Think Challenge: Wickersham Brothers - write about a bully.]_

_[Duct Tape Challenge: Mustache - write about what a person finds attractive in an ideal spouse]_

* * *

_He's a good time Cowboy Casanova_

_Leaning up against the record machine . . ._

Lavender Brown hated everything about the saloon.

She hated the way it smelled, and the way it got crowded and stuffy after three o'clock, and the undignified way the patrons behaved. She hated cleaning the sticky counters once they'd closed up for the night. She hated all of it, and every single day she asked herself why she hadn't left yet.

(She already knew why: if she left, he'd never be able to find her again.)

Ronald Weasley had come into the tavern years ago, when she was sixteen and still pretty and not yet scarred by long hours of hard work. He'd walked in, tipped his hat back to reveal a head of tawny hair, and asked for three things: a chair, a bourbon, and her name.

She was hooked from day one.

She hadn't even realized how much he meant to her, not back then, not until after he'd left, and she would have given anything to go back to the blissful oblivion of the days when she'd mistaken love for laughter.

But Ron had only stayed for a month, and then he was gone again, leaving behind a kiss on her lips and a promise to return. So here she was, three years later, standing behind the same sticky counter and glancing up at the door every so often, just in case.

"Lav," one of the drunken patrons called, waving his glass in the air. "More rye!"

"Not until you pay off your tab, Greyback," she said.

He snarled. "I'll pay it off when I pay it off. Fill me up."

She shook her head. "I can't. Not until I have my money."

He slammed his glass down hard on the counter. It shattered. The saloon went silent. "This is a dangerous game you're playing."

Lavender stood her ground. "Pay up, Greyback. You owe more than half the people in here combined."

He reached across the counter, hands bent into claws, and caught her by the collar of her blouse. "It would be a shame," he said, baring yellow teeth, "if something happened to you, Lavie. A real - "

"Is this man bothering you, Miss?" came a voice from the door.

At first, all Lavender could see of him was his tawny hair, and her heart positively _leaped._

But it wasn't Ron. He was shorter than Ron, and a little huskier, but he had a stronger jawline and a wicked gleam in his eye. "Put her down," the man said lazily, drawing a silver pistol from a holster and aiming it at Greyback's heart.

Greyback didn't let go of Lavender. "You won't shoot," he said, rolling his eyes. "You aren't that stupid."

Lavender took advantage of the distraction to pull her fist back and hit Greyback as hard as she could. Her blow landed just below his left eye; if he'd been sober, he would have been able to keep his hold on her, but with four drinks in him the force of her punch sent him reeling backwards. "Get out of here," she said, sweeping the broken glass from the counter with her dishrag. "And don't come back without my money."

The man kept his gun trained on Greyback until he slunk out of the tavern and into the dusty twilight. The noise in the bar picked up again, and Charlie walked up to the counter. "Are you all right?" he asked Lavender, pulling off his hat.

She nodded. "Ron?" she whispered, just in case.

But the man only blinked. "Charlie," he said, extending his hand. When she took it, he pressed his lips to her fingers. "And what do you call yourself?"

_Mrs. Ronald Weasley. _"Lavender."

"Lavender. Like the color." He leaned against the record machine. "That's beautiful."

She gave him a smile. "Thank you. And thank you for helping me."

He pushed a hand through his hair. "My pleasure. You didn't need much help, to your credit."

"I can handle Greyback," she said. "He's not as tough as he acts. Flick him on the nose and he whimpers, just like any other dog."

Charlie laughed, and just for a second she saw Ron in his face.

"So what do you do, Charlie?"

"I work with horses." He gestured outside, where a black bronco was tied by his bridle to a feeding trough. "Train 'em, breed 'em. What can I say, I'm a sucker for anything wild." And he made a point of looking her up and down.

_And when she squinted, he looked just like Ron._

"Would you like to come upstairs?" she said before she could think about it.

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "Depends," he said after a moment. "Will you be joining me?"

She smiled and picked up his hat off the counter. "You wild horses couldn't stop me," she said, dropping the hat over her head, and he grinned and followed her up to her room. And she knew that lust didn't necessarily promise love - she'd gone to bed with Greyback enough times to know that - she couldn't help but hope. Because her Ron had mysteriously showed up on a horse, too, and he'd stayed for a month; maybe the stranger who looked like her Ron would decide to stay forever.

(When she woke up the next morning, he was gone.)


	15. My Girl

**My Girl**

**Fred/Angelina**

_[Interesting Words Challenge:_ - _Trouvaille - something lovely discovered by chance; a windfall_

_- B'shert (Yiddish) - "destiny"; referring to the seeking of a person who will complement you and whom you will complement perfectly_

_- Yuanfen - a relationship by fate or destiny; the binding force between two people]_

_[Book Thief Quote Competition: __"I have hated words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right."__]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Happy - write about Fred Weasley.]_

_[Oh The Thinks You Can Think Challenge: The Cat In The Hat - write about any rule-breaker at Hogwarts.]_

_[Duct Tape Challenge: Pink Zebra - write about someone who likes to stand out.]_

* * *

_I've got sunshine on a cloudy day._

_When it's cold outside I've got the month of May._

_I guess you'd say_

_What can make me feel this way?_

_My girl_

* * *

_"So...you lot got dates for the ball yet?"_

_"Nope," said Ron. _

_"Well, you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone," said Fred. _

_"Who're you going with then?" said Ron. _

_"Angelina," said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment. _

_"What?" said Ron, taken aback. "You've already asked her?" _

_"Good point," said Fred. He turned his head and called across the common room, "Oi, Angelina!"_

_Angelina, who had been chatting to Alicia Spinnet near the fire, looked over at him. _

_"What?" she called back. _

_"Want to come to the ball with me?" _

_Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look. _

_"All right, then," she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting, with a bit of a grin on her face._

That was how it started. An invitation, an acceptance. And suddenly he was head over heels.

Because Angelina wasn't just a girl. She was a _Gryffindor _girl, and a Quidditch girl, and a funny girl, and a brilliant girl, and a girl who didn't roll his eyes when he cracked bad jokes. And Fred didn't know why he'd never seen that before.

"So the ball," he said, catching her one day on the way out of class. "What d'you think you'll be wearing?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. A dress?"

Fred raised his eyebrows. "And here I was thinking you'd be naked."

"Ah, you'd like that, Weasley, wouldn't you?"

He grinned. "I meant what color dress."

"Hm. Maybe pink? Just so I can clash with your hair?"

"Maybe I'll wear a pink suit, then, just so we match completely."

She laughed, even though it wasn't one of his funnier quips, and he loved her for it. "We'd definitely stand out. I know how you hate to blend in."

"What are you actually going to wear?"

"I think I'll go with white." She stopped in front of the Charms classroom. "This is my stop. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah."

* * *

"Fred Weasley, if you make us late to the Yule Ball, I'm going to murder you."

"Just trust me." He had a handkerchief tied over her eyes. "Take a step forward. Now another one."

"You aren't leading me into the wall, are you?"

"You don't trust me at all, do you? I'm hurt, Angelina."

She sighed, but she was smiling. "We're breaking some major rules right now, aren't we? That's why you have me blindfolded?"

"Not _major _rules. Take another step."

He led her into a secret passageway that emerged in the kitchens, where the house-elves, at his request, had set up a romantic table for two. "One more step this way. Okay, now sit."

She did. "Oh!" she said in shock as he pushed her in. "There was actually a chair there! I was half-expecting to hit the ground."

"And get that white dress of yours all dirty? Not in a million yeas." He took a seat opposite her and reached across the table to pull off her blindfold. "Voila," he said. "Our own private dinner before the ball."

Angelina's eyes were wide. "I wasn't expecting this, either," she said, running her hand over the thick tablecloth. "This is _nice, _Fred!"

"Well don't sound so surprised," he said, feigning offense. "I can be thoughtful."

Angelina gently pulled the cover off one of the silver platters. "Oh, _Fred,_" she said, and this time there was disgust in her voice. "Really?"

Because instead of a feast, the plate was filled with stacks of chocolate frogs.

Fred grinned. "More like what you were expecting?"

She laughed. "Much more." She reached for a frog.

"There's real food, if you want it," he told her, pointing to another silver platter on the counter behind them, but she shook her head.

"I agreed to take Fred Weasley to the ball," she said, peeling back the wrapper, "and I want the entire Fred Weasley experience, thank you very much."

And in all his sixteen years of life, he had never loved someone quite so much.

* * *

"D'you want to take a walk?" he yelled in her ear.

She looked wistfully at Katie and Alicia, who were dancing up a storm. "Now?" she yelled back.

He shook his head. "After this song!"

"Okay!"

Fred took a seat next to Lee and George. "How's your night going then?" he asked his brother.

George shrugged. "All right. Katie has slightly more energy than I do, which is frustrating."

Lee nudged him. "Should've taken Alicia instead, she was tired after the first dance."

"She's out there with her friends right now, mate. She was just tired of dancing with _you_."

"Oh." Lee shrugged. "Glad she's alright, then, I s'pose."

The song ended, and a figure in white wound through the crowd to Fred's side. "Ready for that walk?" Angelina asked, taking his hand and tugging him toward the door. "I was thinking we could go out by the lake, maybe? Or maybe you know some secret path to Hogsmeade?"

"I do, actually," Fred said as they emerged into the cool nighttime air.

She laughed. "Why am I not surprised?" She shook her head and looked up at him in wonder. "You really are something."

"Angelina," he began, and he didn't know what he was going to say, because he didn't really know how to plan these things ahead of time, he loved words and he hated words and he wanted to tell her she was something, too, that he'd discovered her purely by chance but now he couldn't think of a person more suited to be with him, that this was the first time in his life he'd wondered about destiny -

- but before he could get another word out she was kissing him.

"Oh, sorry!" She pulled back, looking embarrassed. "I didn't know you were going to say something. I - I thought - "

"No," Fred said, wrapping his arms around her waist. "No, I was done."

And she grinned and pulled his face back down to hers.


	16. Good To Be Me

**Good To Be Me**

**Molly II/Lysander**

_[Disney Character Competition: Ariel - write about a NextGen kid.]_

_[Off the Block Competition: Backstroke, Easy - write about a NextGen kid.]_

_[Oh The Thinks You Can Think Challenge: Jo-Jo - write about a NextGen kid.]_

_[Book Thief Quote Competition: "But then, is there cowardice in the acknowledgement of fear? Is there cowardice in being glad that you lived?"]_

_[Duct Tape Challenge: Purple Zebra - write about someone with a different view on life.]_

_[Interesting Words Challenge: Erlebnisse (German) - the experiences, positive or negative, that we feel most deeply, and through which we truly live]_

* * *

Molly Weasley sat on the train with her face in her hands and sobbed.

It wasn't that she didn't want to go to Hogwarts - she did - she just didn't want to be Sorted.

Because she shared a name with another former Hogwarts student, and what if the legendary Hat remembered that former student and got confused and put her in Gryffindor without even considering that she might not belong there?

That would be terrible.

Grandma Molly was fearless. Grandma Molly had fought in _two _wars, she'd saved Aunt Ginny's life and killed a Death Eater and brought up seven children on next to no money, and she had never once thought about giving up.

And she, Young Molly, Pathetic Molly, was afraid of her own shadow.

She was smart, like her mother, and quiet, like her father, and sort of funny like her Uncle George, but she wasn't brave like Uncle Ron or tough like Uncle Bill or daring like Uncle Charlie. She was no lion; she was a mouse, and if the Hat put her in Gryffindor, she'd be the biggest disappointment the house had ever seen.

The compartment door slid open, and a fair-haired boy slid inside. "Can I sit here?" he asked. "There were wrackspurts in the other compartments."

Molly had no idea what he was talking about, but she nodded.

"Why are you crying?" the boy asked as he took the seat beside her. He draped an awkward arm over her shoulders. "Did somebody steal your lunch? That's happened to me before. Don't worry, we can share mine."

Molly shook her head. "I d-don't want to go," she whispered.

"To Hogwarts? Why not? My mum went to Hogwarts, she loved it."

"I - I just - " And then she was spilling every secret fear onto the lap of this stranger, and he didn't look alarmed at all, he just nodded every once in awhile and patted her on the shoulder when she was finished.

"I think it's actually very brave to admit you're afraid, you know," he told her.

She sniffled. "Thanks."

"If you're so worried about living up to your namesake, why don't you just change your name?"

"I tried that years ago. There aren't any good nicknames for Molly."

"Hm." The boy tapped at his chin. "What about Hermia?"

She crinkled her forehead. "How did you come up with that?"

"Shakespeare." He pulled a copy of The Quibbler from his bag. "My granddad's just written an article on him. He was a wizard, did you know that? But the Muggles still knew about him. He wrote a play about fairies and magic - oh, hang on, let me find it." He thumbed through the magazine. "Here! _A Midsummer Night's Dream. _There's a character called Lysander - that's my name, by the way, Lysander Scamander - and he's got a friend named Hermia."

"Hermia." She didn't like it much, but it was a hell of a lot better than Molly. "All right. Hermia it is."

Lysander smiled and stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Hermia."

* * *

"I dunno, Molls," Rose Weasley was saying nervously as they entered the compartment - the one Molly had chosen, because it was the one she shared with Lysander every year. The Hogwarts Express lurched out of King's Cross, and Rose stumbled and went sprawling over Lysander's lap. "Oh, sorry!" she said, righting herself.

"That's all right." He grinned at her. "So you're Rose?"

She nodded.

"First year?"

Another nod.

"Hoping for . . . ?"

"Gryffindor," she said immediately. "Like my parents."

"That's funny. Hermia wanted to avoid Gryffindor at all costs."

"Hermia?"

"He's talking about me," Molly said. "It's my nickname."

"_Why_?"

"Because Grandma Molly was a Gryffindor, and I was worried the Hat would put me in Gryffindor, too, because of our names. So he gave me a new name."

Rose rolled her eyes. "The Hat is smarter than that."

"I didn't know that then. And it worked, anyway." She tugged on her Ravenclaw scarf.

"Which House are you in?" Rose asked Lysander.

"Ravenclaw. Same as my parents. Same as Hermia."

"Ugh, don't call her that," Rose said, and Molly laughed.

* * *

Molly sat on the train again - for the last time, the very last time - and tried not to cry as she looked out the window. Her hand was clasped together with Lysander's.

"I keep thinking," she said softly, "about the first day on this train."

"Me, too."

"Did you know?" she asked. "That we'd get together, I mean? Did you have any idea?"

"Hermia," he said, and she turned to look at him. "You never did actually read that play, did you."

"What, the Shakespeare one?"

"A Midsummer Night's Dream."

"No, I never read it."

"Do you remember the part I told you, though?"

"The fairies, you mean? Or about Lysander's friend Hermia?"

He smiled. "Hermia and Lysander aren't friends in the play."

"No? What are they?"

"Lovers."

Comprehension dawned over Molly's face. "You knew! Well, don't _I _feel like an idiot!" she said, laughing through her tears. "And to think the Hat put me in Ravenclaw anyway!" She smiled up at him. "You knew."

He kissed her forehead lightly, then her nose, then her lips. "I always knew, Molly."

It was the first time he'd ever said her name.

And it was also the first time it had ever felt good to be Molly Weasley II.

(Because if she'd been anyone else, after all, he might not have fallen in love with her.)


	17. Teenage Dream

**Teenage Dream**

**Ginny/Malfoy**

_[Off The Block Competition: Freestyle, Hard - write a story exceeding 2,000 words]_

_[Interesting Words Challenge: __Accismus - feigning disinterest in something while actually desiring it__]_

_[Legendary Gods & Goddesses Ch__allenge: Lakshmi - write about a really beautiful female.]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Mulan - write about Ginny Weasley]_

_[Oh The Thinks You Can Think Challenge: Mrs. Kangaroo - write about someone who changes their mind.]_

_[Duct Tape Challenge: Leopard - write about seduction]_

* * *

_You make me_

_Feel like I'm living a t__eenage dream,_

_The way you turn me on,_

_I can't sleep..._

_I'll get your heart racing in my skintight jeans_

_Be your teenage dream tonight._

Ginny hates Malfoy.

She doesn't have a good reason to. It's really just because _Harry _hates Malfoy, and Ginny does whatever Harry does. And ever since the diary, she's been wary of Slytherin men.

Which is why, when Malfoy trips her on her way to the Great Hall for dinner, she reacts somewhat inappropriately.

Two well-placed Bat-Bogey hexes and a nasty hair loss curse later, and they're both in McGonagall's office.

"She started it, Professor," Malfoy says. "She cursed me first."

"And you retaliated." McGonagall dips her quill into an ink pot and begins to write out their detentions. "With the most immaturity I have seen in years, I might add. A hair loss charm, Malfoy? Fifty points from Slytherin."

Ginny smirks and runs a hand through the hair Madam Pomfrey has recently regrown for her.

"Weasley started it!" Malfoy cries.

"Fifty points have already been taken from Gryffindor, and she will be punished, same as you."

Malfoy sinks down in his chair muttering about his father.

"What's the punishment?" Ginny asks, trying not to laugh - there's still a bogey hanging from Malfoy's hair.

"Since you two are so keen on resolving your problems with magic, I'll have your wands." She holds out her hand, palm up.

"Our wands?" Ginny repeats blankly.

"Yes, Weasley, for the rest of the night. And you, Malfoy. Hand it over."

They surrender their wands, which McGonagall stows in her robes. "You may have them back after breakfast in the morning," she says. "Now go back to your common rooms. And try your best not to fist fight in the corridor."

"I can't believe you did that," Malfoy hisses as they leave McGonagall's office.

"Me? You're the one who tripped me."

"I didn't trip you."

Ginny's fingers ache for her wand. "Just stay away from me," she says, speeding up ahead of him, but after only a few steps she goes sprawling. "You tripped me _again!_" she cries, getting up. "You bastard - "

"I really didn't trip you," Malfoy says with a grin. "But I wish I had."

She lunges at him. They both hurtle through a door that's painted to look like a section of the wall, and as they land inside the door swings shut and locks of its own accord, leaving them in complete darkness. "No," Ginny says, leaping up to pound on the door with her palm. "Open!" she cries. "Hello? Someone let us out!"

On the other side of the door, she hears the familiar laughter of Peeves. "Ahh, wee students stuck in a broom cupboard!" she hears him tittering to himself. "Wonder what they'll do now, with no wands to get them out?"

"Peeves," Ginny says, mouth close to the keyhole. "Unlock the door."

"Won't." Peeves blows a raspberry.

"Are you the one who tripped Weasley?" Malfoy asks, shoving her aside. "Brilliant job, if you are."

Peeves only cackles. "Goodnight, students," he says, and then he's gone.

Ginny sits on the floor. "Perfect," she mutters. "Stuck in a broom cupboard with Draco Malfoy. It's every teenager's dream come true."

"Piss off, Weasley, it's not like I asked for this to happen. It's your own fault."

She leans back against the wall and closes her eyes. "Just get us out of here," she says.

"How?" He sits down across from her and stretches out his legs. "She took my wand, same as you."

Ginny sighs. "It's eight o'clock," she says. "And nobody will be in this corridor until seven for breakfast."

"So that's eleven hours until someone can let us out."

Ginny nods, and then remembers he can't see her. "Yes."

Silence falls over them for a few minutes. "I really didn't trip you, you know," Malfoy says.

"Sure."

"I didn't. But blame me, if it makes you feel better. Heaven forbid you blame yourself."

She leans over to shove him, but loses her balance and goes sprawling instead.

Malfoy laughs. "See? You can't keep your balance even when you're sitting."

"Shut up."

More silence.

"What time d'you reckon it is now?"

"I dunno, nine?"

"_Ugh._"

She wants to say something nasty, but she refrains, and the silence falls over them again.

"You know who I hate?"

She blinks. She'd almost been asleep. "Who?"

"Pansy Parkinson."

"Oh. Er, why?" She doesn't care.

"She thinks she's fit. She's not."

"You don't think so?"

"Never."

"Who _do _you think is fit, then?"

He doesn't say anything.

"Come on, Malfoy, if we're stuck here we at least need something to gossip about."

He still says nothing.

"I'll bet it's Harry."

He snorts. "The day I find Potter attractive is the day I leave Slytherin for Hufflepuff."

"So who is it then?"

"Nobody, I suppose. How about you, then?"

She has to think about it. "Harry," she admits.

"Should've guessed that on my own."

"What about Hermione? Do you think she's attractive?"

"No. Not at all."

"Millicent Bulstrode?"

He laughs. "That troll? No."

"Luna Lovegood?"

"She's all right. Odd, though."

"Daphne Greengrass?"

"Yes."

"Cho Chang?"

"A bit."

"Hmm . . . Angelina Johnson?"

"Yeah."

"Professor McGonagall?"

"Is that a joke, Weasley?"

"Me?"

He's quiet.

"Oh, come on, I won't think anything of it."

"You're not bad," he says. "Better than Johnson. Much better than Bulstrode."

"Better than Parkinson?"

"Loads better than Parkinson."

Ginny grins. "Look at me. Better to look at than a Slytherin. I suppose you prefer her personality to mine, though."

He hesitates. "I might prefer yours, actually. Pansy's a baby. If it were her in here, she'd be crying all over me."

"If it means anything, I prefer you to Pansy Parkinson, as well," Ginny offers.

He laughs, and it might be the first time he's laughed with her instead of at her.

"So have you ever snogged Pansy?" She doesn't know where she's going with this.

"Once."

"Was she any good?"

"Nah."

"Worse than Millicent Bulstrode?"

He shoves her, but it's playful. "I wouldn't know, I've never snogged Bulstrode. Thank Merlin."

"How about Daphne, then?"

"Daphne's better than Parkinson."

"And McGonagall?"

He groans.

"I wonder how I compare?" _She really doesn't know where she's going with this._

"We've got a good ten hours left to find out, if you want."

And she doesn't know if she's heard him right, because _was that an invitation to kiss him?_

"Only for comparison purposes, of course," he adds when she's silent.

"Right. Only for comparison." And she reaches out to find him in the darkness.

"Well?" she asks when they've finished.

He snorts. "That wasn't even a kiss, Weasley. That was a _peck_."

"I can't exactly snog you if you won't snog back."

He sighs, and she hears him readjust himself. "Come here," he says, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her over to his side of the closet. He slides his hands up her body to find her mouth, and then he leans over her and catches her lower lip.

He seems hesitant at first, but the longer the kiss goes on the looser he becomes, and the more relaxed she feels, and it's not a passionate kiss, it's just _curious_, and the fact that she can feel his heart hammering through his robes means nothing, and neither does the fact that this has now officially gone on longer than any other kiss she's ever had.

Ginny lets her eyes slip shut.

(It's not like it matters. It's too dark to see anything anyway.)

"Better than Pansy?" she asks when he finally pulls away. Her lips feel pleasantly numb.

"Better than Pansy," he confirms.

"Better than Daphne?"

He still has his hands on her, she notices. "I'd say so, yeah."

"Better than . . . McGonagall?"

He laughs. "No, I think McGonagall has you beat." She feels one of his hands push her hair behind her ear. "But you are good."

"Thanks."

"What about me? Better than Potter?"

"I dunno. I've never snogged him."

"Who _have _you snogged?"

She begins to tick them off on her fingers. "Stevie Baker was my first - before I even got to Hogwarts. You're better than he was. And then Tom Ri - erm, Tom. He doesn't go here, either. He was all right. I think I prefer your personality to his."

"You prefer my personality to someone? I'm shocked. And touched."

She laughs, and it's a little breathless, because _he still has his arms around her_. "After that was Colin Creevey. Terrible kisser. You're better. And then Neville Longbottom, although that was only once, and only a little peck. Michael Corner. Then Dean Thomas. And then . . . You, actually."

"And am I better than Longbottom, Corner, and Thomas?"

She can hear the smirk in his voice. "Not Dean," she lies, just to knock his ego down a peg.

"Ah, well, can't win them all. How's my personality compare?"

"You're the worst, save for Tom. No contest."

He laughs.

"And my personality?" she asks.

"Better than Pansy's. Better than Bulstrode's. Better than Daphne's, too." He thinks for a moment. "You have the best personality of anyone I've snogged, actually."

_That_ makes her nervous. "You hate me," she reminds him. "I'm a Weasley. You hate all of us."

"Nah, you're not so bad, now that I've spent an hour with you."

"Oh."

"Mm."

Silence.

"Draco?"

"Yes? Hang on, did you call me Draco?"

"Once you've snogged someone in a broom closet, you can call them by their given name."

"But it's not like one snog means we're dating now."

"I dunno, if you weren't in Slytherin, or if I _was _in Slytherin, I think we'd date."

"Maybe." She hears him yawn. "Is that your way of asking me out?"

"No."

"Good. I'd say no. And it'd be a shame to break your heart and then have to sit in a closet with you all night."

"Break my heart?" she scoffs. "Right."

"Anyway, what did you want?"

"Oh." She begins to squirm. "I just - could you take your arms off me?"

"Oh!" He lets go of her. "Sorry."

"It's fine. I just wanted to lie down. Maybe sleep a little." She pulls her outer robes off and balls them up to use as a pillow. "Night," she says quietly.

"You're on my leg," he says.

She moves. "Better?"

"Yeah. Night, Ginny."

Silence.

"Ginny?"

She's almost asleep. "Hmm?"

"Am I actually worse at kissing than Thomas?"

She sighs. "No."

"Knew it."

"Good_night_, Draco."

"What, you don't want a goodnight kiss from the _best kisser you've ever had?"_

(She does, but she won't admit it.)

"Do _you _want a goodnight kiss from the best kisser you've ever had?" she asks.

"I didn't say you were the best."

"Oh, right. McGonagall has me beat." She puts a hand on her shoulder and hoists herself up into a sitting position. "Goodnight," she says, and leans in to kiss him. She tries to make it brief, but just as she's starting to pull back he leans in deeper, and then she gives in and loses herself completely in his arms.

* * *

When Filch pries open the broom cupboard the next morning, he finds them fast asleep - her curled into his chest, him with an arm resting around her shoulder - and drags them out by the front of their shirts. "What were you doing out of bed?" he snarls, and as soon as Ginny mentions Peeves, Filch drops them and goes off in search of the poltergeist.

"Draco?" It's Pansy Parkinson, on her way down to breakfast. "Did you actually just come out of a _closet _with a _Weasley?_"

Draco starts to say something, but Ginny interrupts. "What, you think I slept with _Malfoy_? Never in a million years. We were trapped in there and we didn't have our wands, that was all."

Pansy rolls her eyes and keeps walking.

"Malfoy! Weasley!" It's McGonagall, coming up behind them. "You two didn't report to your common rooms last night," she says. "We were looking everywhere. What happened?"

"Peeves locked us in a cupboard," Ginny explains, "and we didn't have our wands, so we couldn't get out."

McGonagall takes in Malfoy's sleep-disheveled hair and Ginny's lack of robes, and her mouth sets into a hard line. "Regardless, that's detention for both of you next weekend," she says sternly. "My office. Eight o'clock. And do try to be more careful, won't you?"

"We will, Professor," Ginny says.

"Well," Malfoy says once she's out of hearing range. "Another detention with me. Lucky you, Gin - Weasley."

She grins. "Oh, I think you're the lucky one," she says. "Just think of it! An entire night with me _and _McGonagall. Must be a teenage dream come true for you."

And, after a quick glance around to make sure no one's watching, she stands on tiptoe, presses a kiss against his mouth, and skips off to the Great Hall for breakfast.


	18. Ain't Gonna Lose You

**Ain't Gonna Lose You**

**Frank/Alice**

_[Disney Character Competition: Eugene Fitzherbert - write about true love. Prompt: Shelf]_

_[Legendary Gods & Goddesses Challenge: Ma'at - Write about an Auror.]_

_[Duct Tape Challenge: Gray Plaid - write about someone who lived a long life.]_

_[The Book Thief Quotes Competition: "The song was born on her breath and it died at her lips."]_

_[Oh The Thinks You Can Think Challenge: Cindy-Lou Who - write about someone courageous.]_

_[Interesting Words Challenge: Marcid - withered, incredibly exhausted]_

_[Fan-Fiction Terms Category Competition: OTP - write about two people who stick together through thick and thin.]_

* * *

They danced to that song at their very first Hogwarts ball, when she was sixteen and he was sixteen and her best friend was Lily and his best friend was _her._

_"I can't stand the thought of another man, No I ain't gonna lose you…"_

"I'm glad you finally got up the nerve to ask me to the ball," Alice said as they spun in a slow circle around the Great Hall.

He grinned. "I'm glad you said yes."

"What was I going to do, Frank, say no?"

"I dunno. You might've. If there was someone else you wanted to go with more."

"Someone else? Like who?"

"Erm . . . " He looked pointedly at James, who had Lily in his arms, and then at Sirius and Remus, who were dancing with each other and making loud kissing noises in James' ears. "I just thought . . . Lily's your best friend, so maybe you'd go with one of James' best friends."

She laughed. "Oh, yes, because it's every woman's dream to slow dance with Sirius Black!"

He looked confused. "Isn't it?"

"No, Frank. Not every woman."

"Oh."

He walked her back up to the common room after the ball, and she was just taking off her shoes - they were bright blue, the exact color of the Drooble's Best Blowing Gum wrappers littering the floor around her bed - and setting them on the shelf beside her four-poster when Lily ran in. "Frank Longbottom is in the common room," she said, collapsing on Alice's bed with a silly grin on her face. "And he wants to talk to you."

"Me? About what?"

"I dunno, go downstairs!"

"Let me put my shoes back - "

"No time, no time!" Lily jumped up and began to tug Alice's wrist.

"Okay! Merlin, Lily, calm down." Alice padded, barefoot, down to the common room. "Frank?" she said, frowning. "What's wrong?"

He was standing in front of the fireplace, twisting his hands together. "I have to try something," he said, crossing to her in three long strides and catching her face in her hands, and then he was kissing her, and she let out a muffled squeak of surprise, but she kissed him back, and she was vaguely aware that they had an audience but she didn't care, _Frank Longbottom was kissing her._

He pulled back suddenly, breathlessly. "That was all," he said, a little red in the face. "Erm. Night, I guess." And then he bolted up to his dormitory.

"So?" Lily asked innocently when Alice came back upstairs. "What did he want?"

Alice sat down on her bed in a daze and stared at her shoes on her shelf. "He kissed me."

Lily was grinning like a fool. "I know, Ali. I saw."

* * *

They danced to that song the night he married her, at their wedding, when she was twenty and he was twenty and their baby had been growing within her for almost three months.

"_They can tie me up, call me a clown, But I ain't gonna lose you…"_

"My feet are killing me," Alice complained in Frank's ear as they swayed back and forth. "It's these damn shoes."

"What's wrong with them?"

"They're too small."

"Why did you wear them, then?"

"They're my Something Old!" Behind them, she saw Lily dancing with James, and Remus and Sirius swinging each other around to mock them, and it reminded her so much of that first night. . . .

"How old?"

"I wore them to the ball in sixth year. The first time we ever danced together. And my feet were much smaller then, apparently."

He bent to kiss her. "I love you."

"I love you too. But sweetheart. I have to take off the shoes."

He kissed her again. "I love you more than anything."

"Frank, you aren't listening."

"I am listening. You're talking about your shoes. And I love every piece of you, Ali, from your head to your stomach - " he ran his thumb over her barely-there baby bump " - to your stupid idea to squeeze into some sentimental shoes you wore when you were sixteen."

And then he was laughing, and she was laughing, too, and there was nothing for her to say but, "I love you, too."

And that night, when the wedding was over, she took off her shoes and her veil and set them gently on the shelf by her bed.

* * *

The knock on their door came late at night, when she was twenty-one and he was twenty-one and Neville was too young to have an age, and it was their first wedding anniversary and they were playing that song through the Wizarding Wireless Network and dancing around the kitchen.

_"Tell the whole world I've gone insane . . . But I ain't gonna lose you. . . ."_

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Who's there?" Frank asked, drawing his wand.

The knock came again.

"I'm an auror," Frank warned, "and I command you to identify yourself."

A muffled cackle came from outside, and then suddenly the door was on fire.

Alice drew her wand and stood next to her husband. "It's them, isn't it?" she whispered. "It's happening?"

"It's them." He set his jaw. "Are you afraid?"

"No."

He kissed the top of her head, keeping his eyes locked on their burning front door. "Neither am I."

She glanced at the shelf by the door, the one that held a photo of their tiny family set in a Drobble's-blue frame, and she took a deep breath. "I won't lose you," she promised the photograph. "I ain't gonna lose you."

And then the door fell in, and three masked Death Eaters stepped inside, and after that all Alice knew was pain and screaming and _I ain't gonna lose you_ playing over and over on the radio.

* * *

"I ain't gonna lose you," Alice whispered hoarsely, reaching out across their twin hospital beds to take her husband's wrinkled hand in her own. "I ain't gonna lose you." A tear leaked from her eye and rolled down her cheek. "Frank," she said, squeezing his hand, and she couldn't hear herself speak (because she couldn't speak, not anymore), but she knew he'd be able to hear (he wouldn't), she knew he would understand (he wasn't capable). "I want to go to the ball with you."

He opened his eyes, and they were blank and wide and far away, and _Merlin, when had his hair turned gray?_ "I want to go to the ball with you, too," he said, and she couldn't hear him (he hadn't really spoken) but she knew that's what he was saying.

"I'll need my shoes," she said, rolling over to look at the shelf by her bed. It was empty. There was nothing there, no shoes, no wedding veil, no family photograph. And she'd asked them a hundred times to bring back her memories, but they couldn't hear her, or they didn't listen, or maybe she was already dead, already a ghost, and beyond their help.

"I ain't gonna . . . " She reached into the pocket of her hospital gown and pulled out a blue Drooble's wrapper. "I ain't gonna lose you."

And as the silent song died on her lips, she clenched her marcid hand into a fist around the wrapper, holding on as tightly as she could to the closest thing she had to Something Old.


	19. Wanted

**Wanted**

**Tonks/Bill**

_[Disney Character Competition: Doc - write about Bill Weasley. Prompt: hair]_

_[Off The Block Competition: Medley, Easy - write about Tonks]_

_[Oh The Thinks You Can Think Competition: The Lorax - write about a Weasley]_

_[Legendary Gods&Goddesses Competition: Amaterasu-oumikami - write about someone from the noble family, preferably a good person]_

_[Duct Tape Challenge: Blue Leopard - write about someone who hasn't quite found him/herself yet]_

_[Book Thief Quotes Competition: "No matter how many times she was told she was loved, there was no recognition that the proof was in the abandonment."]_

* * *

_I want to wrap you up_

_Want to kiss your lips_

_I want to make you feel wanted..._

The little girl with blonde hair was beyond frustrated with her trunk.

She'd stuffed it full of clothes last night, and books, and all the tools she'd need for Hogwarts, and now it was so heavy that she could barely drag it down the aisle of the train. "Stupid suitcase," she muttered, kicking it hard. It toppled over, and the lid - which hadn't been fastened, because she'd loaded it with too much _stuff _- opened and spilled the entire contents of her trunk onto the floor of the train.

The little girl put her face in her hands and let out an unladylike swear word.

"Excuse me," a boy said, tapping her on the shoulder. His hair was bright red - probably just about the color of her face. "Did that word just come out of _you_?"

The girl clamped her mouth shut. "I spilled my things," she began to explain, but the redhead laughed.

"I just wasn't sure," he said, waving his wand. "_Pack._" Her belongings piled themselves into her trunk, which closed and locked itself before zooming up into a luggage rack.

The girl stared. "You've _got _to teach me that."

The boy grinned. "I've got a brother about your age, and he swears like a sailor, but I've never heard a girl use that particular word." He stuck out his hand. "I'm Bill. Bill Weasley. Gryffindor. And you?"

She shook his hand. "Tonks. First year."

"Tonks what?"

She shook her head. "Just Tonks."

He smiled. "Well, Just Tonks, let me introduce you to my brother, so you can have someone to sit with. Oi! Charlie!"

Another red-haired boy popped his head out of a compartment. "Yeah?"

"This is Tonks. She's a first year, same as you."

"Hiya, Tonks."

Tonks moved into his compartment and took a seat. "You and your brother look the same," she informed him.

"We do?"

"It's the hair." And with a thoughtful little smirk, Tonks made her hair turn red. "There. Now we match."

Charlie gaped at her. "How did you _do _that?"

She grinned. "I was born this way. I'm a Metamorphagus. I can make myself look like anyone."

A slow smile spread across Charlie's face. "Can you make your nose a bit longer?"

"Sure." And she did.

"Now freckles. Add some freckles."

"Okay. Why?"

"No reason, no reason. Could you be a bit taller? No - too much. Shrink down a little. Perfect. Now . . . Blue eyes. And the most mischievous grin you can manage."

Tonks gave him a cheeky smile.

Charlie clapped his hands together once. "Don't move." He poked his head out of the compartment again. "Bill!" he called. "Look who's here!"

Bill stuck his head inside. "Who?" he asked. "Where's Ton - OI! Fred!" He grabbed Tonks by the upper arm. "How did you get aboard?"

"He snuck on," Charlie said with a grin.

"Mum'll have your hide," Bill said. "She'll - hang on. You aren't Fred."

Charlie was doubled over laughing. Tonks let her face turn back to normal and offered Bill a nervous smile.

She didn't know whether he was going to scold her or praise her, but in the end he clapped her on the shoulder and said, "You were close. Fred's eyebrows are a bit thicker. But it was good. It was very, very good. I want you in my House, for sure."

Charlie let out a low whistle as Bill left. "He likes you," he said immediately. "It takes a lot to impress Bill. And he wants you to be in Gryffindor with us!"

But all Tonks heard was, _He likes you._

* * *

"Nymphadora, for the thousandth time, _no_," Bill said, leaning on his broom. "I've seen you fly. You'll hurt yourself."

"If Charlie can do it," she began, but he interrupted her.

"Charlie's had years of practice. And you're clumsy as hell."

"Just let me _try out_," she begged. Her hair was in a swirl of ringlets today, because that was how seventh-year Priscilla Corner wore her hair, and everyone knew Bill fancied her. But not even the curls were helping today.

"I said _no_. Dammit, Tonks, I'm not even in charge of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. What are you doing over here?"

"They said no, too," she admitted. "I just want to be on a Quidditch team, Bill."

But he told her no again, and threatened detention if she didn't listen, and when she borrowed Charlie's broom anyway and fell off four feet above the ground and somehow managed to break both her arm and her collarbone, he swore at her for a good five minutes before picking her up and carrying her to the Hospital Wing.

"I'm sorry," she said when he put her down on a bed. "I really just wanted to fly. I wanted to impress you." She made her hair red and changed her face into Fred's. "Aren't you inspired by my tenacity? Don't you want me on your team?"

"It's still detention," Bill said shortly, tapping his Head Boy badge, but she saw him smile from the corner of her eye.

And she knew he was too old for her - even _Charlie_ was too old for her, really, and they were only eight months apart - but that smile sent a thrill through her all the same, and she wore her hair in ringlets for the rest of the week.

* * *

"Where is he," she asked when she heard the news.

Nobody answered her.

"Where is he? _Where is he?_"

"Hospital Wing," somebody said, and Tonks didn't even stop to thank him, she raced up to the Hospital Wing as fast as she could and burst through the doors and positively _fell _onto him. She'd made it before anybody else, before even his mother, and she sat by his side even when Madam Pomfrey tried to shoo her away, because he was _Bill_, he was _hers_, even though he wasn't, and it wasn't supposed to be Bill in the hospital bed, it was supposed to be her, she was the one who got hurt, not him, never him.

"What's going to happen to him?" she asked Madam Pomfrey.

"He'll be alright." Madam Pomfrey began to dab at one of his wounds.

"He was bitten by a _werewolf. _He won't be alright!"

"If you don't want to support what he's become, you're free to leave."

Remus' face burst into her mind. "I'm staying," she said fiercely. "I won't leave him, no matter what he is." She began to stroke Bill's hair. "I'm here," she whispered to the boy's restless form. "I'm here, and I still want you. I want you to know that I _want _you. We all want you. We all love you. Even now. No matter what. You aren't a monster. You're still Bill." She wished she could turn her hair into ringlets for him, but she felt frozen. "And I want you. Always have."

Then his girlfriend burst in and began to sob over him, and Tonks was pushed aside.

* * *

"Is he a full werewolf?" she asked Molly for the tenth time.

"_No_, Dora, he isn't." Molly flicked her wand at a stack of dishes. "He doesn't transform. He says he feels restless at the full moon, but between you and me, I think it's all in his head."

"But even if he were a full werewolf, you'd love him, wouldn't you?"

Molly put a hand on Tonks' shoulder. "Dora. Dear. You know I would. And Remus knows he is loved."

"This isn't about Remus. It's about _Bill. _Does _Bill_ know that he is loved?"

"Yes, Tonks, he does. His fiancée has told him a thousand times. And his mother has told him quite a bit more often than that."

"And he knows he's not a _freak_, doesn't he?"

"Dora, what's gotten into you?"

Tonks was wringing her hands. "It's just - I see myself in him. And I want to make him feel wanted. Because it's _so hard_ to not be wanted. It's hard to be - a Hufflepuff, for example, and a metamorphagus on top of that, and also being too clumsy to play Quidditch, and too weak to carry my own trunk, and then there's also the fact that even though I'm disowned, there's still Black blood in me, and once in awhile I just get this urge to, I don't know, rip things apart, and - "

"Tonks, are you sure this isn't about _you_?"

She froze. "It's not."

Molly didn't look convinced. "You know we love you, too, Dora," she said. "You know you're always wanted."

And Tonks burst into tears.

* * *

The night before her wedding, he knocked on her door.

"Bill," she breathed, trying her best not to stare at his scars.

"Tonks." He came in without asking for permission - he knew he always had it - and sat down on her bed. "Congratulations."

"Thank - I mean, for what?"

But he grinned and shook his head. "No need to play dumb. I know about the wedding," he said. "I know it's supposed to be a secret, but Remus told Dad, and Dad can't keep a secret for his life, so now we all know."

She laughed.

He reached out to wind his fingers up in her hair. "Wear your hair in those curls tomorrow, like you always used to," he said softly. "I like your hair in those curls."

And he gave her a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug before he got up and left her.

"Remus is a lucky man," he said over his shoulder. "You're extraordinary, Tonks. And I hope he always makes you feel wanted."

And if she'd been a third-year again, she knew that would have been enough to make her call off the wedding and follow him around for months, just wanting him and waiting for him and trying to find proof, any proof, that in spite of abandoning her for Fleur, he really did love _her_.

But that Tonks was gone, and so were her dreams and her hopes and her wants.

This Tonks had a different love in mind.

She married Remus Lupin the next morning.

(And she wore her hair straight.)


	20. Golden Slumbers

**Golden Slumbers**

**James/Lily**

_[Disney Character Competition:"Kida" Nedakh - Write about sacrifice. Prompt: Sunlight]_

_[Oh The Thinks You Can Think Challenge: Horton - write about someone who sticks to their decisions]_

_[Legendary Gods&Goddesses Challenge: Agni - Write about a sacrifice]_

_[Duct Tape Challenge: Skulls - write about someone after death.]_

_[Book Thief Quotes Competition: "If they killed him tonight, at least he would die alive."]_

_[Interesting Words Challenge: Apricity - the warmth of the sun in the winter_

_Ilunga - a person who will forgive anything the first time, tolerate it the second time, but never a third time_

_Komorebi - sunlight that filters through the leaves of trees_

_Athazagoraphobia - the fear of forgetting, being forgotten or ignored, or being replaced]_

_[Die Hard Challenge: Sacrificial Death]_

_[12 Days of Christmas Challenge - one OTP]_

* * *

_Once there was a way to get back homeward_

_Once there was a way to get back home_

_Sleep pretty darling do not cry_

_And I will sing a lullabye_

_Golden slumbers fill your eyes_

* * *

_"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry"_

_"Stand aside you silly girl. Stand aside now."_

_"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead - not Harry! Please, have mercy . . . Have mercy . . . ."_

* * *

The first thing Lily saw after she died was sunlight filtering through the leaves of trees.

She was lying on the ground, her cheek pressed into the warm earth, and the only sound in the world was the murmur of a brook from somewhere behind her. "Harry?" she whispered through cracked lips. "James?"

But there was no answer.

Lily shook herself out of the lazy, sun-drenched slumber and got to her feet. She felt weightless, as if she were made entirely of sunlight, and the simple act of breathing send tingles down her spine. The reddish soil beneath her was thick and spongey; each step was like a bounce, and each bounce gave her more chills. "Harry? James?"

And again there was nothing.

Lily looked around the forest - if you could really call it that - in which she'd awoken. The trees were spaced evenly, as if someone had measured the area and then planted each seed in a precise location. No two trees were the same, either. Some were tall and thin, some were stout, some were cypress, some were chestnut, some were oak. Lily pressed her palm against the wood of a small holly tree, barely more than a sapling, and she could swear she felt a heartbeat thrumming inside of it.

"Harry?" she called once more, but there was no answer, and she hadn't expected one. "_James_?"

She was getting nervous now, because James knew better than to avoid her when she called him like that. She could forgive him for not coming to her the first time - she'd said it quietly, after all, and maybe he hadn't heard - and she could tolerate him not answering the second time - _maybe he was too far away? _- but no response after her third shout, no reply when she was so scared and confused and _desperate? _That was something James had never done before. And it was that, more than anything, that made her begin to weep.

"James," she whispered. "James, I need you."

"_Lily!"_

And she turned to see James running toward her from the other side of the murmuring brook. He leaped over the water and came to a halt in front of her. "Where's Harry?" she begged.

James shook his head. "He's not here."

She felt the blood drain from her face. "What do you mean?"

"He's alive, Lily."

"How?"

"I don't know. I didn't see. But he isn't here, so he isn't dead."

Lily bit her lip. "Is that what we are?" she whispered. "Dead?"

He pulled her into a tight embrace. He didn't say anything, didn't offer gentle words or soothing reassurance, and she was glad of it, because she was Lily and he was James and all they'd ever needed was each other.

"My son is alive," Lily murmured against her husband's shoulder. "He lived."

"Harry Potter," James said, and he pulled back just long enough to kiss her. "The boy who lived." He shook his head in wonder. "Nobody's ever done that before, eh?"

"Nobody." But there was still a pang of sadness within her. "He's going to forget us," she said. "He will never know his parents. They'll replace us with relatives, or matrons, or godparents. We won't get to see him grow up, or grow old - oh, James, we won't get to know our grandchildren!"

James kissed her forehead. "They'll all know us someday."

"I don't want someday. I want _now, _James."

"Lily."

She was wringing her hands. "Of course I'm glad he lived - more than glad, I'm _overjoyed -_ but if Voldemort had just gotten it over with, if he'd killed him tonight, at least Harry would be _alive. _Not actually alive, I mean, but at least he'd be alive to me - at least he'd be _here_ - "

"Lily," James began, but she seized the front of his robes.

"I want to go back," she begged. "I want to go home to him."

"We can't. There isn't a way to get back home. Not this time. Don't cry, darling. Lily, I - "

"Don't try to calm me down."

"I'm not." He looked into her eyes. "I'm just reminding you that I love you. You will never understand how much I love you."

"I love you, too." She was weeping again. "And - James, I'm sorry."

He cocked his head to the side, and _Merlin_, even in death he was still her James. "Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry I said I didn't want to go to Hogsmeade with you."

He looked confused. "What, back in third year?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry."

James let out a laugh. "What for?"

"I dunno. If I'd said yes then we would have had more time together before - this." She laughed through her tears. "Who would've thought we'd have such wretched luck?"

He shook his head and caught her chin with his hand. "Lillian Evans, you and I are the lucky ones."

"Why?"

"Because we have all the time in the world. We have _eternity_. And we get to spend every moment of it together. We're never going to die - because we already did. There is nothing that can keep us apart anymore. No matter what you said during third year."

She laughed a little and rocked up on her toes to kiss him. "Potter," she said.

"Yes?"

"No, not you. I'm correcting you. You called me Lillian Evans, but it's Potter now." She nestled her head against his shoulder. "I'm part of you. I made that decision, and I'm sticking to it. One hundred percent. And that's for eternity, too."

He wrapped his arms around her once more, and as they whispered I-love-yous a flurry of snow began to fall from the sky. Lily didn't mind. She didn't even feel cold - she was warm, like a sunbeam.

* * *

The first tree that fell in their tiny grove was the black walnut. It simply bent over of its own accord one day; the moment it hit the ground, the trunk transformed into Sirius Black, who bounded toward James and ensnared him in a hug.

The next tree was the cypress, which was split down the center by a streak of lightning, and out stepped Remus Lupin.

The oak tree came years after that, yielding one Rubeus Hagrid, and soon after the chestnut tree produced Frank Longbottom. The forest shrank one tree at a time, and Lily and James embraced each new death with love.

The holly tree grew for years.

Lily came to look after it every day. She pressed her palm against the trunk and felt the heartbeat and told the tree she loved it, that she was proud of it, and that they would be together soon.

And even though there was snow the day Harry Potter joined his parents in the afterlife, Lily had never felt more like a beam of sunlight.


	21. Surrender

**Surrender**

**Dean/Seamus**

_[Disney Character Competition: Mushu - Write about Seamus Finnigan. Prompt: War]_

_[Oh The Thinks You Can Think Challenge: Dad - write about someone who tries to conceal the truth.]_

_[Legendary Gods&Goddesses Challenge: Seth - write about someone who wreaks havoc.]_

_[Book Thief Quotes Competition: __"Can a person steal happiness? Or is it just another internal, infernal human trick?"__]_

_[Interesting Words Challenge:_

_- Weiji (Chinese) - "crisis" or "critical moment"; from the characters "risk" and "opportunity"; the idea that there can be a positive result in a wisely handled risk_

_- Katzenjammer (German) - "cat's wail" or "a discordant sound"; a bad hangover or a general state of depression or bewilderment_

_- Habromania - delusions of happiness]_

* * *

The worst day of Seamus Finnigan's young life was when he found out Dean Thomas was dating someone.

He didn't even find out from Dean; he heard it from Ron, when he walked into the common room to find him screaming at Dean to stop snogging his sister. Seamus nudged Hermione. "Dean's with Ginny?" he whispered.

"Looks like it."

"Oh." He tried to cover his disappointment with a smile, but it felt as if he'd been hit in the stomach. Little Ginny Weasley, to whom he had never given a thought, was suddenly wreaking havoc on his entire world. How was it that knowing - just _knowing_, not even witnessing - Ginny Weasley snogged Dean was enough to suck the happiness out of his body? When had Ginny Weasley learned how to so effectively steal happiness from other people and use it for her own selfish purposes? "Good for them."

Hermione didn't buy it. She put a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right. I'm sure they won't last, especially with Ron so against it. When Ginny's free, I can talk to her, if you want."

"About what?"

"About dating you?" She looked puzzled. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

"No?"

"Oh. It's just, you looked so sad. I thought maybe you were in love with her."

"Oh. Right. Er, we're only friends. But thank you."

* * *

Actually, Seamus Finnigan was wrong: the worst day of his life was when Dean Thomas and Ginny broke up.

Dean lay on his bed, gazing moodily up at the canopy over his four-poster and not saying a word. "Are you okay?" Seamus asked every few minutes.

The answer was always the same: "No."

Seamus slid off his bed and went to stand at Dean's side. "I know you liked her, mate, but isn't it better this way?"

"Give me _one reason _why things are better this way, Finnigan."

Seamus pursed his lips. "You're a free agent now. You can get with whoever you want."

Dean laughed humorlessly. "That's the problem. The only one I want is her."

It was like being punched in the gut. "Nobody else?"

He shook his head. "Nobody else. No one on this planet could compare."

Seamus was torn between wanting to cry and wanting to punch him. "You don't think there's anyone else? Maybe someone right here in Gryffindor?"

He shook his head again. "She's perfect for me, Seamus. She's energetic. She's daring. She's got a wicked sense of humor." He moaned and rolled over onto his stomach. "And on top of it all," he added, voice muffled by his pillow, "she plays Quidditch."

Seamus seized the opportunity. "I'm not half-bad at Quidditch," he offered. "I could play with you now, if you want." He reddened as he heard his own words. "Play Quidditch with you, I meant! To get your mind off things."

Dean sighed. "Thanks, Seamus. You're a good friend. But I'd rather just stay here, I think."

"Or football!" Seamus pointed at Dean's poster. "I - you could teach me football!"

Dean rolled onto his side so he could see Seamus. "You want to learn football?"

"Yes!" he cried. "I have _always _wanted to learn football."

Dean laughed. "Really? You've never told me that before."

"There are a lot of things I want that I've never told you before."

Dean didn't notice the double-meaning, though, and he hoisted himself up and pulled his football out from under his bed. "Down to the Quidditch pitch, then?" he said, dropping the ball and letting it bounce off his foot.

Seamus was beaming. "Yeah, all right."

(Maybe this wasn't the worst day of his life, after all.)

* * *

No, the honor of Worst Day of Seamus Finnigan's Life belonged to the first day of seventh year, when Dean Thomas' compartment on the Hogwarts Express and his seat in the Great Hall and his bed in the dormitory were empty, empty _empty_.

He knew Dean wasn't coming back, knew it wasn't safe for muggleborns, but a selfish part of him had hoped Dean would risk it, if only to come see him.

But Dean, in spite of his courage, wasn't a risk-taker, and so Seamus went to sleep that night with bewilderment and depression and an unrealistic feeling of rejection brewing in his heart.

* * *

The best day of Seamus' life was when Dean Thomas came back.

He emerged from the hidden entrance into the Room of Requirement, and Seamus couldn't help himself, he ran to tackle his friend - because that's what they were, _just friends_ - in a hug. "I missed you," he said in Dean's ear.

Dean laughed and hugged him back. "I missed you, too."

He began to pull away, but Seamus didn't let go. "When this is all over - if we live through it, anyway - I have something to tell you."

"Go on, then."

Seamus finally let go and took a step back. "Not until everything is over."

And then the conversation turned to the fact that Dean didn't have a wand, and even though Seamus knew this was the end, and they probably wouldn't survive, he couldn't keep the grin off his face.

* * *

But the _real _best day of Seamus Finnigan's life was the one after that, when everything died down and Voldemort's body had been moved and he and Dean finally found each other again.

"You survived," Dean pointed out.

Seamus grinned. "I got lucky."

"No." Dean shook his head. "I've seen you fight. You're not lucky. You're skilled. You could be an auror, I reckon."

Seamus shrugged. "I'd rather go into football."

Dean threw back his head and laughed. "Ahh, Seamus, look at us. We did it. We won a _war_." He opened his arms wide. "I haven't felt so free in _ages_."

Seamus was laughing too.

"Oh - what was it you were going to tell me?"

Seamus froze. "What?"

"Before the battle. You were going to tell me something."

"Oh." Seamus dropped his eyes to the ground. "Dean. Er. I - I don't want this to affect our friendship, okay?"

"Fine."

It was a risk - a risk Dean would never have taken - but Seamus wasn't Dean. "I - I fancy someone."

Dean smirked and punched him playfully. "You sly dog. Who is she?"

"It's someone we both know very well."

"Is it a Gryffindor?"

"Yes." Seamus' heart was pounding.

"I'll bet it's Ginny. You can have her, I'm over her, mate. Although I think she's made it quite clear that she likes Harry."

He shook his head. "It's not Ginny."

"Oh. Then who?"

Seamus said it so quietly that Dean had to ask him to repeat himself.

"_You_," Seamus said again.

Dean was silent.

"I don't want it to ruin our friendship," he said hurriedly. "I just thought you should know, since it's been going on so long."

"How long?" Dean asked.

"Erm - seven years."

Dean let out a laugh of disbelief. "Seven years. So since you met me, you've fancied me."

"That sounds about right, yeah."

Dean put his face in his hands. "Merlin, Seamus, you're making me blush."

"Sorry," Seamus said, patting Dean awkwardly on the shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"I can't believe this."

Seamus bit his lip. "You know what? That was a joke. Just a prank. Ha, ha. It _is _Ginny I fancy."

Dean looked up from his hands. "No," he said, and he caught his friend by the shoulders. "I can't believe - Seamus, I didn't realize it until you said it, but I think I fancy you, too."

He wasn't sure he'd heard that right. "What?"

"I fancy you. Not for quite as long. Only a year, I think. Since you asked me to teach you to play football."

Seamus felt a disbelieving grin spread over his face. "You fancy me?"

He nodded. "Merlin. Is that gross?"

"I don't think so."

Dean licked his lips. "No, I don't suppose I do, either."

And then he surrendered, suddenly and completely, and leaned in to kiss Seamus full on the mouth.

(And, Seamus thought as he was rendered delusional by happiness, of all the days he'd lived so far, this day was hands-down the best.)


	22. Story of My Life

**Story of My Life**

**Percy/Barty Crouch Jr.**

_[Disney Character Competition: Grumpy - write about Percy Weasley. Prompt: Collar]_

_[Legendary Gods & Goddesses Challenge: Izanagi no Mikoto - Write about a father]_

_[Interesting Words Challenge: _

_Soigné - possessing an aura of sophistication in dress, manner, or design; presented or prepared with an elegance attained through care for the finer details _

_Atelophobia - fear of imperfections_

_Abulia - a total inability to make decisions_

_Zemblanity - the inevitable discovery of what we would rather not know]_

_[Duct Tape Challenge: Butterflies - Write about a delicate male figure (afraid to get dirty, doesn't fight, spends too much time on complexion, etc.)]_

_[Death Eater Competition: Barty Crouch Jr.]_

_[Oh The Thinks You Can Think Challenge: Max - write about a faithful henchman]_

_[Book Thief Quotes Competition: "So much good, so much evil. Just add water."]_

* * *

_And I'll be gone, gone tonight_

_The ground beneath my feet is open wide..._

Percy Weasley wasn't sure, but he had a strong suspicion that something fishy was happening.

It started when Mr. Crouch stopped coming to work. He owled Percy twice per day with instructions, and at first Percy didn't mind, he was glad to do it, he was _proud. _Of all the people in the wizarding government, Mr. Crouch trusted him, Percy, in spite of his poverty and his family and his inexperience. Percy was going places. Percy would be Minister of Magic someday. Maybe even something greater - maybe Headmaster of Hogwarts. Or _both_. It had never been done, but Percy could manage it. He was brilliant, after all. Even Mr. Crouch thought so.

The doubts began when Percy went to fill in for Mr. Crouch at the Triwizard Tournament. It wasn't the whispered rumors about Crouch's whereabouts that bothered him, nor was it the jokes thrown his way by Fred and George. It wasn't even the presence of Igor Karkaroff - a _known _Death Eater, and an extremely creepy individual to boot.

No, it was Mad-Eye Moody, of all people, who made Percy worry about his boss.

"Where's Crouch?" Moody growled one day when Percy was walking to the judges' table for the second task. "Still ill, then?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the matter," Percy said primly.

"Doesn't matter." Moody shrugged his hulking shoulders. "We all know he's Imperiused by You-Know-Who."

Percy stiffened. "There is no evidence to suggest that." He adjusted his already-crisp collar and began to walk more briskly.

"Now, now, sonny," Mad-Eye called, limping after him. "Hold on. I didn't mean to rile you up."

"I'm not riled up. It's simply classified information. Only Ministry Officials are allowed - "

"I am a Ministry Official, boy, I'm the head of the Auror Department, and I know nobody's got a bloody idea where Crouch is." He clapped his hand on Percy's shoulder.

Percy felt his face growing red. He ducked out of Moody's arm and began to dust off his collar. "Professor, I must insist - "

"You're too uptight, that's your problem," Moody continued. "You appear to be suffering from atelophobia - you have an astounding fear of imperfection, boy. You need loosening up. Do something crazy."

Percy let out a nervous laugh. "I'm too uptight? Me? I'm not the one who enchanted my dustbins to attack passersby. I'm not the one spending my nights lurking outside the Gryffindor common room in case Harry Potter wants a glass of water."

Moody's magical eye, which had been whizzing around in circles up until this point, suddenly stopped, its pupil locked on him. "I'm protecting the savior of the wizarding world," he said finally. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Percy held his head high and said nothing.

"That doesn't sound like something a Weasley would say," Moody mused. "It sounds like something _Crouch _would say. Are you sure you came up with that little insult on your own?"

Percy suddenly became extremely interested in a speck of dirt on his fingernail.

"You know what your problem is?" Moody said. "You lack the ability to think for yourself. You don't come up with your own lines. You don't come up with your own ideas. You possess a total inability to make decisions. Percy Weasley, you aren't a man. You're a _parrot_."

"Now, see here," Percy began angrily, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. "I'll have you know - "

"Do you want to come see something?"

" - that I am a very important - what?"

"Come with me." Moody slung his arm around Percy's shoulders and half-dragged him toward the Forbidden Forest. "I want to show you something."

"But - the Tournament - "

"It's not starting for an hour. You've got time."

Moody led Percy to the area just behind Hagrid's hut. "There's something here that I want to show you," he said, and for a moment, Percy thought the voice coming out of the auror didn't sound right. But maybe Moody was just excited. He hurried to Hagrid's garden and dropped to his knees in the soil, where he began to dig with his bare hands.

"Here, now," Percy shouted, running to the professor and seizing him by the elbow. "Stop that!"

Moody shook him off and continued to dig. "Here it is," he murmured, and Percy was struck again by how _odd _he sounded. "Here _he _is." He produced a bone, stained brown by the dirt. Percy recoiled. "Take it," Moody said, holding it out to him.

Percy clasped his hands behind his back. "I'd rather not, thanks. Can't get dirty . . . the Tournament, you know. . . ."

"The Tournament," Moody scoffed. "Crouch is supposed to judge. But he isn't here."

"He's _ill_," Percy began, but he had a sinking suspicion that he was about to enter zemblanity.

"He's dead." Moody put the bone on the ground and took two strides away from it. With a violent sweep of his wand, the bone transformed into Crouch, wide-eyed and pale-skinned, with a layer of dirt coating his skin.

Percy choked.

"Rest in peace," Moody said, grinning, and he dropped to his knees beside the body. "Rest in bloody peace!"

Percy drew his wand and held it at Moody's neck. "Don't move," he said as authoritatively as he could manage. "Don't you dare. I'm placing you under arrest."

"For what?"

"You knew where he was and you didn't step forward."

Moody threw back his head and laughed. "I _murdered _him!" he said, and Percy could feel the magical eye on his face, and he was _very _suspicious that something wasn't right here. "I did it! I killed him, and I turned him into a bone, and I buried him. And he would have done the same to me. Go on, arrest me. Something's coming, Weasley, something you can't stop, no matter how many people you throw in Azkaban."

Percy pretended not to be fazed. "You will be allowed a trial, during which you will be under the influence of Veritaserum, and should you resist you will be denied any - _don't move!_"

Moody had reached for his hip flask, but he froze at Percy's words.

"_Put your hands on your head._"

He obeyed.

"That man you murdered, Mr. Crouch, he made it legal to use Unforgivables when necessary to apprehend criminals. If you move again, I will be forced to - "

Moody laughed. "You couldn't if you tried."

"I could so," Percy said hotly. "I trained under the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I can and will take any measures necessary to enforce the law."

"Even break the law yourself?"

"If the ends justify the means, then - hang on, what's happening?"

Mad-Eye Moody was changing.

It happened slowly, beginning with his nose, which Percy could barely see, and so had written off as a trick of the light. The missing chunk of his nose filled in, followed by the scar across the left side of his face, and that was followed by his entire left eye - the magical one fell out and hit the ground - and then suddenly he was growing thinner and taller and his face was changing and his hair was shooting backwards into his skull, and it was turning the color of straw, and _it wasn't Moody anymore_.

"Go on," the yellow-haired boy (because he really was _no more than a boy)_ said in a deathly quiet whisper. "Go ahead. Arrest me."

"I - who _are _you?"

The boy lifted his head and grinned. "Come on, you don't see the family resemblance?"

Percy still had his wand out. "As acting Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I order you to - "

The boy sighed. "So unoriginal. It's exactly like I'm talking to Father."

Percy hated to ask, but he did anyway: "Who's your father?"

The boy looked pointedly at Crouch's body.

Percy's jaw dropped. "Your father is Mr. Crouch?"

"No, my father _was _Mr. Crouch."

Percy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Who are you?"

"Barty Crouch, Jr. Loyal to the Dark Lord. And I don't give a damn if you arrest me, because the moment the Dark Lord regains his power I'll be the prince of his new world."

"Your 'Dark Lord' is dead," Percy reminded him. "And you're under arres - "

"He _is_ dead," Barty Crouch Jr. agreed. "But not for much longer."

Percy swallowed. "Why did you do it? Why did you kill Mr. Crouch?"

"My father hated me." The boy craned his neck around to meet Percy's eyes. "My father sent me to Azkaban."

Whatever Percy had expected, it was not that. "Oh," he said softly. "My father doesn't like me much, either."

The boy looked at Crouch's corpse with indifference. "He thought I tortured people. He thought I was _evil. _I suppose he was right about that, in the end."

"My dad thinks I'm wrong about a lot of things," Percy said, more to himself than to the boy at his feet.

"If you send me to Azkaban, I'll find a way out," Barty said.

Percy shook his head. "No. I'm not going to do that." He stepped around in front of the boy and offered him his hand. "I think you've done an evil thing, Barty, but I like to look for the best in people, and I think there's some good in you. More than just some. Lots. A lot of evil, a lot of good. Just like everybody else. So I'm going to let you go. I'm going to pretend none of this happened. And that's against the law, but everyone deserves second chances. And you need to learn: family isn't everything. You nursed such a grudge against your father that it drove you to patricide. You can't let it _get _to you, Barty. You have to sever ties with the people who try to hold you back."

Crouch snorted. "Is that what you do?"

"Yes, I - well," Percy said, hoisting the boy to his feet, "now that I think about it, I really don't."

"You should." Crouch turned his father's body back into a bone. "That's not one of my father's ideas. That one's all yours. Run with it." He pulled Percy into a hug, and then gave him a peck on the mouth.

"Oh, my," Percy said, blushing and raising a hand to his lips. "I - thank you, but I'm not . . . _like that_."

Barty pulled out his hip flask and took a long swig. "Don't worry," he said as his body stretched to take on Moody's shape. "You won't remember it in a moment." He pulled out his wand. _"Obliviate._"

Percy blinked and looked down at the wide-open ground beneath his feet. "Professor," he said crossly, kicking some dirt into the hole in an attempt to fill it in. "If all you wanted to show me was a dog bone that Fang buried in Hagrid's garden, I really must be getting back to the Tournament."

Moody popped his magical eye back into his socket. "Go on, then," he said gruffly, patting Percy on the shoulder. "And remember. If anyone gives you a hard time about who you are, just sever ties with them and move on."

Percy arrived at the judges booth with twenty-one minutes to spare, all the while thinking there was something rather fishy going on around here.


	23. September

**September**

**Neville/Draco**

_[Off The Block Competition: IM, Extra Hard - write about Oliver Hornby]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Winnie The Pooh - write about Neville. Prompt: Blue]_

_[Book Thief Competition: "It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on, coughing and searching, and finding."]_

_[Death Eaters Competition: Lucius Malfoy]_

_[Legendary Gods&Goddesses Challenge: Zeus - write about the Minister of Magic.]_

_[Duct Tape Challenge: Polka Dots - write about organized chaos]_

_[Interesting Words Challenge: _

_Dormiveglia (Italian) - the space that stretches between sleeping and waking_

_Adamantine - something unbreakable; a legendary metal that was impenetrable; unbreakable_

_Kalon - beauty that is more than skin-deep_

_Kalopsia - the delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are_

_Micawber - an eternal optimist_

_Lítost - regret and remorse and repentance; a state of agony and torment; or sorrow said to be "created by the sudden sight of one's own misery"]_

* * *

_Do you remember_

_The 21st night of September?_

_Love was changing in the mind of pretenders..._

Draco was fuming. "Stupid arse," he said, dropping his Potions textbook on the floor next to his bed. "Stupid bumbling Squib."

"What happened?" Blaise Zabini asked from his four-poster. He was lying on his bed with the latest edition of Marvin Miggs, the Mad Muggle in his hands, but he closed the comic and sat up when he heard Draco drop his cauldron with a _clang. _"Whoa. Draco. What happened?"

"_Longbottom_," Draco said. "He's my partner in Potions. And he managed to blow up the entire batch of Calming Draught I spent last week perfecting."

Blaise let out a low whistle. "Bad luck, mate."

Draco moaned and flopped onto his bed face-first. "I'm torn between wanting to hex him," he said into his pillow, "and wanting to force him to drink the ruined potion."

"Don't be hasty," Blaise said.

"Oh, what kind of Slytherin are you, talking me out of revenge?"

"I'm not. I only meant you need something subtler. Something that won't get you caught." He slid off the bed and began to rummage through his trunk. "Something like . . . this." He pulled out a tiny blue flask.

Draco lifted his head. "What is it?"

"Dream Solution. My mum is with a guy who invents potions for a living. I swiped some of his latest experiment. It's meant to be a muscle relaxer. It puts you to sleep, gives you nice dreams, and when you wake up you're pain-free. Only he made it too strong." Blaise flicked the bottle with a grin. "The dreams don't go away once you wake up. They can last for _days_. Waking hallucinations, and all that. And they make you severely emotionally volatile, as well. Two drops in his dinnertime pumpkin juice and Longbottom will think he's gone _insane._" He offered the flask to his friend.

Draco took it and began to turn it over in his hands. "Oh, Blaise," he said with a grin. "You are a Slytherin, after all." And he pocketed the Dream Solution and practically ran from the dormitory.

* * *

"Are you okay, Neville?" Hermione asked on their way up to the common room after dinner.

Neville, whose face was already pasty, had gone positively white. "I need to lie down, I think," he said, blinking rapidly. "I feel faint."

"Careful, Neville," Hermione said as he began to sway. She grabbed his arm to keep him upright. "_Latine temere,_" she said to the Fat Lady, and she swung forward so Neville could could go sprawling across the floor inside.

"Neville," Hermione said, trying to hoist him to his feet, but a faint snore issued from between his lips, and Hermione sighed and stepped over him.

* * *

Neville woke up to a hand grabbing his wrist and gently pulling him up off the floor. He groaned. "'Mione?" he said, smacking his lips. "Wha' happen'?"

"Not Hermione, dear," a cool feminine voice said, and Neville pried open his eyes. "Hornby. Professor Olive Hornby"

"Oh." Neville squinted up at Professor Hornby (whom he'd never actually heard of). She was lovely, with long, dark hair and striking blue eyes that peeked out from beneath long lashes. She smiled at him and bent a little to dust off his robes. Neville looked down at himself and clumsily swiped at his collar, and then jumped back with a gasp -

- because Professor Hornby was, from the waist down, invisible.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"You - are you a ghost?"

She looked down at the empty space where her legs should have been. "Oh, no, dear, I'm just only half-here."

"What does _that _mean?"

She laughed (she had a beautiful laugh) and floated forward to touch his shoulder. "I'm only half-here. Same as you're only half-awake."

"I'm not awake?"

She shook her head, and her hair swung back and forth mesmerizingly, and again Neville wondered why he'd never seen or heard of this Professor before. "You're in space that stretches between sleeping and waking. You're only half-here, too," she added, pointing to his arm, and with a shock Neville realized that the _entire left side of his body was gone. _

"So this is just a dream," Neville clarified, pawing frantically at the space where his left shoulder used to be. "I'm actually fine?"

Professor Hornby shrugged. "Not entirely."

He gulped. "I'm not?"

"Now that you're here, it will be hard for you to leave."

Neville furrowed his brow. "Why will it be hard, if all I have to do is wake myself up?"

"Because you _can't _wake up. Dormiveglia is adamantine. Unbreakable, like chains around a prisoner. You can't escape until your time is up."

"When will my time be up, then? I've got classes in the morning."

Professor Hornby shrugged. Neville noticed that she hadn't blinked once during their entire interaction. "I'm stuck here, too. Same as you. A lot of people are. Look."

Neville turned his head and saw Hermione, who was missing most of her torso, sitting by the fire reading a book. "Hullo, Neville," she said with a wave. Neville tried to wave back, before he remembered he no longer had a left arm.

"And look out here." Professor Hornby pushed open the portrait and led him out into the corridor. Malfoy, flanked by Zabini, was standing at the end of the corridor, with one leg cut off at the knee and both arms invisible from the elbows down.

"Feeling alright, then, Longbottom?" Malfoy asked with a smirk.

Neville turned to Professor Hornby. "What's Malfoy doing here?"

Malfoy turned to Zabini, who was missing everything but his head. "Who's he talking to?"

"Nobody," Zabini said. "That's the beauty of the little blue potion."

"Potions!" Neville cried. "I've got to get to Potions! I have to fix my Calming Draught!"

"You won't be able to," Professor Hornby said. "Nothing you do in Dormiveglia has any effect on the physical world."

"I don't want to be in Dormiveglia anymore!" Neville shouted.

"You have no choice."

"Shove off," Neville said, and then he ran at Professor Hornby.

* * *

Draco and Zabini stood at the end of the Gyffindor corridor and watched, laughing uproariously, as he ran headfirst into the wall.

"Oh, _well done_, Blaise," Draco said as Neville began to punch at thin air. "This is the revenge I've been searching for my whole life."

"Plenty more where this came from, too," Blaise said, pulling out the blue bottle and tapping it with a fingernail. "It's quite good, isn't it? He really has no idea what's going on. Who knows what he's hallucinating."

Neville had stopped fighting and was now holding an imaginary woman in his arms and French-kissing her passionately. When he noticed his audience, he jumped back, blushing furiously, and called, "Hello Minister! What brings you to Hogwarts?"

Blaise took a cautious step forward. "Me?" he whispered. "Does he think I'm Fudge?"

Draco grinned. "Looks like it. Go on. Humor him."

* * *

Neville felt himself turn bright red as he realized the Minister of Magic had seen him snogging Professor Hornby. "I know what it looks like," he said with a nervous giggle, "but I wasn't kissing Professor Hornby."

"I kissed _him_," Professor Hornby added, putting her hand on Neville's shoulder. "I couldn't help myself."

"Er - yes," Fudge said, scratching at his head with an invisible hand. "Yes, well, I'm afraid I'm going to expel you for that."

"What?" Neville's jaw dropped. "No! I thought - I thought nothing I do here has any effect on the physical world?"

"Er - of course. Listen, Longbottom, you shouldn't have destroyed Draco Malfoy's potion."

"I know, I was on my way to fix it, when Professor Hornby. . . ." He gestured helplessly.

"Who's Professor Hornby?" Fudge asked.

"Her. She's right - " But when he turned to point at the professor, she was gone. "She must've woken up," he said. "She's gone." He sighed. "She was so beautiful. I think she loved me."

But there she was again, floating down at the end of the corridor, smirking.

"PROFESSOR HORNBY!" Neville cried, running toward her. "I thought I'd lost you forever!"

Professor Hornby took a step backwards. "What are you doing?" she asked. "Longbottom - no, I'm not Professor Hornby - I'm Draco, I'm Draco!"

And then Neville was kissing Professor Hornby again.

* * *

"Mmph!" Draco shoved Neville away and wiped his mouth furiously on his sleeve. "Longbottom! That was _disgusting_!"

Neville looked at him with wide, crestfallen eyes. "Wow," he whispered, and his voice cracked. "Professor, you are so beautiful. So, so beautiful. And I thought it ran more than skin-deep, but I suppose I was wrong. You deluded me into thinking you were beautiful on the inside, and then you broke my heart."

Draco squinted at him. "Longbottom, are you _crying?_"

"I always thought of myself as an eternal optimist, but you've changed me forever. Damn this place! Damn Dormiveglia!" He began to sob into Draco's robes. "I can see how miserable I truly am. I regret everything I've done here," he howled.

Draco looked at Blaise, who was doubled over laughing. "Merlin, Zabini, make him snap out of it," he said, pulling her robes out of Neville's clenched fists.

"To be honest, actually, I'm amazed that he's still able to hold onto you, even with streams of tears flowing down his face," Blaise said. "That's perseverance, there. If he's ever in a war, he'll be the one staggering on, even when all hope is lost."

"Yes, that's poetic, Zabini," Draco snapped. Neville had begun to sing about love changing in the mind of pretenders. "Get him off of me."

"I loved you!" Neville sobbed. "I loved you!"

"Draco?"

Draco froze and slowly turned around. His father was standing on the staircase, looking down on the scene with a mixture of confusion and disgust on his face.

"Father," he started. "It's not what it looks like."

"Let me kiss you one last time," Neville cried, and Draco shoved him to the ground.

"Draco," Lucius Malfoy said, descending the stairs. He had a half-empty bottle of wine in one hand, but he set it on the floor and folded his arms over his chest. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

"Father, I can explain."

"It's a potion," Blaise supplied, holding out his little blue bottle. "A hallucination potion. Longbottom took it, er, by mistake. And now he thinks he loves Draco."

Lucius looked at Neville, who was curled into a ball on the floor. "I've just been to see Dumbledore about these attacks on Muggleborn students," he said slowly. "I was not expecting to see something like this." He nudged Neville with his foot. "Mr. Longbottom," he said authoritatively. "Get up and go to your dormitory."

Neville sniffled. "It's _Dormiveglia,_" he said, looking up, and then his expression changed from one of misery to one of terror. "Gran?" he said. "What are you doing here?"

Lucius opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "I am Lucius Malfoy," he said. "Not your grandmother."

"I swear, Gran, I didn't mean to get expelled!" He wrapped himself around Lucius' legs. "Don't punish me! I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Draco stuffed a fist in his mouth to stifle his laughter.

"I'm Lucius Malfoy," Lucius repeated, kicking Neville away. "Get away from me, you buffoon! Go back to your dormitory so your head of house can deal with you."

Neville let out a relieved sigh. "I love you, Gran," he said, standing and walking unsteadily back into his common room. Lucius straightened his robes and turned on his heel. As soon as he was out of earshot, Blaise began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Draco asked sourly.

"Your dad was holding a bottle of wine."

"So? He always brings drinks when he calls on friends."

Blaise held up his blue bottle. "I spilled some." He grinned. "Oops."

"Zabini!" Draco swatted his friend's shoulder. "You dolt!"

Blaise shrugged and started back to their common room. "All I know is, next time your dad goes to call on a friend, I hope I'm there to witness it."


	24. One

**One**

**Albus/Grindelwald**

_[Off The Block Competition: IM, Hard - write about Gellert Grindelwald]_

_[Disney Character Competition: Prince Phillip - write about someone who would do anything for love. Prompt: sounds]_

_[Duct Tape Challenge: Angry Birds - write about rebellion]_

_[Legendary Gods & Goddesses: Indra - write about a good leader figure]_

_[Interesting Words Challenge: Eleutheromania - intense desire to be free] _

_[Hogwarts House Painting Competition: Snape]_

_[Book Thief Competition: "For some reason, dying men always ask the questions they already know the answers to. Perhaps it is so they can die being right."]_

* * *

_Gellert is dashing and Gellert is bold and Gellert is brilliant, and even though Albus knows he isn't gay (except for one night in seventh year with Elphias Doge), he thinks he might love Gellert anyway._

_After all, love doesn't have to be sexual, does it?_

_The meet in Godric's Hollow. Albus isn't even supposed to be there. He's called off his world tour so he can care for his sick sister. He hates Godric's Hollow, hates the way it's got Muggles living on every street, hates the way Ariana wakes up in the middle of the night screaming at them to stop hurting her. Hates the way there's nothing he can do about it._

_Gellert isn't supposed to be there, either. His aunt has had a scare - something about a break-in - and she's begged him to stay with her in case it happens again. He arrives the same day Albus does, and that's how they both know fate is real. _

* * *

"What's he saying now, Snape?"

Snape leaned over until his head was poking out of his own portrait and into Dumbledore's. "He said, 'Fate.'"

* * *

_Gellert's got charisma, too, like any good leader should. He talks animatedly, using his hands to illustrate his points, using his face to draw in his audience._

_(Using his eyes to draw in Albus.)_

_"You don't like Muggles, do you, Albus," Gellert says one day. Albus is sitting in a stiff-backed chair in his room, looking out the window at a group of boys playing in the street. They're using sticks as swords and pretending to stab one another, and Albus has a faraway look in his blue eyes. "Albus?"_

_Albus blinks. "I don't like Muggles," he repeats. "No, you're right."_

_Gellert comes up behind him and puts his hands on Albus' shoulders. "Why not?"_

_"They hurt my sister," he says quietly. "And they ripped apart my family."_

_Gellert makes a small noise of sympathy. "They are vile, aren't they," he says. "Hopelessly ignorant. And uncivilized. The world would be a better place if we staged some sort of wizarding rebellion and did away with all of them."_

_Albus laughs hollowly. "Maybe."_

_"Not a rebellion, actually," the other boy says, and he's got a faraway look in his eyes now, too. "A revolution."_

_Albus nods, still watching the boys outside._

_"Or even a war."_

* * *

"What's he saying _now_?" Professor Dippet asked.

Snape sighed. "You can hear him as well as I can, Armando."

Dippet raised a comically large ear trumpet up to the side of his head. "What's that you're saying?"

Snape clenched one hand into a fist beneath his robes. He hadn't had a wink of sleep since the night he'd died, and it was all thanks to Dumbledore's incessant sleep talk. The other portraits seemed to find it entertaining; they liked to guess at the former Headmaster's dreams, which usually consisted of various forms of Muggle candy, but once in awhile the dreams were heavier.

And Snape had been unlucky enough to by hung directly adjacent to Dumbledore's portrait, so he was the one they called when they couldn't decipher the sounds he uttered.

"He said, 'Rebellion,'" Snape said. "And 'Muggles.'"

"What?" Dippet called again.

"_Rebellion_."

* * *

_They plan for their rebellion for months, owling back and forth and visiting as often as they can, and once in awhile they go up to Albus' room and lock the door and spend quite a bit of time _not _planning._

_And with every correspondence, the desire to be free - free from hiding his magic from his neighbors, free from Ariana's night terrors, free to take his revenge - swells within Albus. The same eleutheromania is growing in Gellert, too, only instead of basking in the bellicose anticipation, he expresses himself with his hands. Those hands that he uses illustrate his points, to perform complicated wand movements, to caress and stroke and touch - Albus finds himself craving those hands._

_(There is another kind of freedom Albus desires, too: the freedom to tell Gellert how he _feels_.)_

_(Because they never say the word "love" to each other. And as far as Albus knows, that means there isn't any.)_

* * *

"What's he saying _n - _"

"He said 'love,' Armando."

* * *

_And of course it ends badly. Everything in Albus' life has ended badly so far. Why should this be any different?_

_(Why should this one person, this one perfect moment, be allowed to survive when everything else is gone?)_

_He tells himself it doesn't matter. There was no love there, after all (yes, there _was_, though, it was just unrequited). And when he duels Gellert - when he defeats Gellert - when he watches them lock Gellert away - he tries not to look at those hands._

* * *

"He said, 'One,'" Snape said before Dippet could even ask.

"One?"

"One."

"What does that mean?"

Snape shrugged. "You'll have to ask him when he wakes."

"He never remembers his dreams when he wakes," Dippet grumbled.

Snape didn't say anything.

* * *

_And suddenly Albus is old, and Albus wise, and Albus is falling, falling, falling, and he isn't even scared because he's already dead._

_It isn't Harry Potter's face that bursts into his mind as he hits the ground. It isn't Severus', either, or Draco's, or Voldemort's. It isn't even Ariana's._

_It's Gellert's, of course it's Gellert's, and Albus reaches up to grab that hand but he can't, because he's still falling, and also because he's dead._

_"Do you love me?" Albus asks breathlessly, but he already knows the answer, he's known for ages, ever since Gellert put down his wand in the middle of their duel and let Albus win. "Did you love me?" (And his mouth doesn't move, because he's _alreadydead_)._

_But Gellert hears anyway, and Gellert smiles, and Gellert says, "Always."_

_Albus exhales. "Good."_

_And then he hits the ground._

* * *

And then he woke up.

"Good gracious, Severus," he said as he saw the Potions Master's head poking into his frame. "I must admit, I was not expecting company."

Snape didn't smile. "What were you dreaming about?" he asked without preamble. "These buffoons want to know."

Dumbledore smiled. "As usual," he said fondly. "But I'm afraid I don't remember this dream."

The portraits groaned.

Snape shared a look with Dumbledore. "Him again?" he whispered, and Dumbledore inclined his head very slightly. "I'm sorry," Snape said, and Dumbledore believed the pity in his tone.

(Because Dumbledore was not the only one plagued by dreams of lost love that started with a meeting and ended with a death.)


End file.
